


The Secrets We Keep

by NoticedKohai



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Age Difference, Alcoholism, Angst, Anxiety, Baby Noctis, Bad Touch Ardyn, Daddy Ignis, Discussion of Rape, Drug Abuse, Gladnis, Healing, M/M, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Prostitution, Slow Burn, baby prompto, firefighter gladio, i make my own rules, ignis is a goddamn mess, mentions of abuse, past ardnis, screw your lore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-22
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-01-21 07:24:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 53,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12452487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoticedKohai/pseuds/NoticedKohai
Summary: Secrets keeps Ignis safe. They keep his child safe. They keep him from becoming too attached to anyone that could hurt him.But, you know, after a while... That kind of life, a life of isolation and paranoia, gets lonely.It chips away at you, like the bills you can't pay, and the nightmares, and the prostitution, and booze do.It's going to kill him, he knows.So, when life sends him a second chance, he takes it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually the plot for a visual novel I'm working on, under the moniker [Studio Senpai](https://www.twitter.com/studiosenpai), but I like to share my VN ideas as fanfiction, first.  
> So, if things seem a little wonky (like a baby Noctis, ages being all out of whack, sleazy Camelia, and Polynesian Gladiolus), that's why. I'm too lazy to go through and fix all of that for continuity's sake.  
> Try to not read too much into it :)  
> [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/friendlysenpai), [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/A78050VD)

Ignis slammed the door to the small fridge shut, his free hand already swinging down to his waist to snatch up the used bottle opener from where it dangled from his belt. The sharp hiss of the pressure being released from the bottle preceded the crunch of the metal cap popping away to bounce along the rubber mat. Faintly, the sound of clinking could be heard when it cleared the edge of the mat to skitter under the bar.

Ignis paid it no mind, and slid the beer across the lacquered wood into the waiting hand of a man he only hardly recognized, who slapped a fistful of bills onto the bar before pushing back through the throng of people behind him. He was already moving on to the next person, not even bothering to wipe his palm of the condensation that clung to his skin.

Painted red lips stretched into a feline-like smile that asked for a martini lemon drop, her voice nearly lost to whatever dubstep remix was pouring from mounted speakers in loud, heavy thrums. He pointedly ignored the way her hips swayed back and forth in time with the beat as he thrust the chilled metal scoop into the vat of ice, dumping it into a shaker before reaching for the bottle of Grey Goose that was tucked into the speed rail.

By the way her smile faltered when he asked if she had a tab open already, it was clear she had been banking on her allure getting her a free first drink.

Pro tip: if you want to get a drink on the house, try to get it from someone that actually thinks they might benefit off of it.

A frown etched itself into his features when the smell of cigarette smoke wafted over from… _Somewhere_. There were too many people for Ignis to figure out where it was coming from, and there were plenty of other smokers scattered throughout the bar, but it was close enough for the acrid smoke to burn his eyes.

Thankfully, there was enough of a lull – or, as much of a lull as you can get on a Saturday night – for him to find an excuse to escape the front bar for a moment. He patted his coworker on the shoulder, picking up the bus bin from the floor and ducked under the countertop door.

“I’ll be back,” he muttered, though he wasn’t sure his coworker could hear him.

Despite there being a perfectly good corner of the bar top with rubber mats waiting for empty glasses, the vast majority of their patrons left dishes scattered throughout the bar on random tables where they were finished, so Ignis lithely wove through the crowd that danced and bumped and writhed to the catchy beat, most of them with drinks in their hands.

Lights of varying hues of blues and purples danced over the bar patrons, which would probably make for a rather intriguing sight if the entire left side of his skull wasn’t painfully throbbing with every pulse of the bass.

He made quick work of collecting the various shot, high ball, and martini glasses, using a rag that was draped over the edge of the bin to wipe away any sweat rings before they had a chance to stain the wood. When he returned to the front bar to tuck the bin under the counter, with the mind to take care of them later, Cindy flashed him an apologetic smile and asked,

“Hey, can you wash those off? We’re kinda startin’ ta run low up here.”

Ignis had to fight the urge to groan, instead turning his back to his coworker to hide his grimace. “Of course. Not a problem.”

Washing dishes, on a normal night, wasn’t something he minded. It was simply a part of his job – he shook up a bunch of sugar and poison, dumped them into glasses, then cleaned those glasses before he left. But dishwashing was always something done _after_ the bar closed. How the hell did they already run out of clean glasses when it was only _eleven_? They didn’t even run out of clean dishes on _New Year’s Eve_ , and they had at _least_ double the amount of people ordering drinks until the ball dropped.  

Shouldering the swinging door open to the kitchen area, Ignis instantly understood what had gone wrong.

Dozens of glasses were stacked on top of one another on the flat metal surface of the counter, all very clearly from their Friday crowd. One of the sinks was filled with water that, when he dipped his fingertip in and felt the coolness float around his skin, he realized was _also_ from last night. Upon closer inspection, he could see that several of the glasses had a thin film coating the inside, with some remainders of the cocktails collecting into a congealed mess at the bottom.

A long, slow sigh passed through his lips. It wasn’t so much that he was angry, he was just… _Exhausted_.

Once the bin full of dirty dishes was shoved up against the mountain of others, Ignis reached into his pocket to fish out his phone, snapped a quick photo, and sent it to Loqi, the new bartender that worked Fridays and would have been in charge of dishwashing if he ever did his godsdamn _job_.

_I will create a checklist for you if you need one before you clock out._

It may have been a tad passive-aggressive, but Ignis was too tired to pretend like this wasn’t a problem. This would take at _least_ half an hour to get through, thanks to the dried residue crusted along the inside of the glasses, and a half hour absence during bar prime time was a _lot_ of tips to miss out on.

Like… At least two packs of diapers worth of tips.

Still, he carefully and diligently scrubbed the soap around each glass, making sure to not miss any flecks of salt or smudges of wine stains. The glasses with the most residue caked into the edges were placed in the water to soak while he worked on the others to make the most of his time, but there were still a handful that required a little more elbow grease to get them completely clean.

Whatever blue sanitizing fluid they used stung at the burn on his hand from working at the café earlier.

“Oh my god, thank you so much, darlin’.” Cindy quickly scurried over to help Ignis unload the tray of glasses when he finally returned to the bar, “I was about to start using plastic cups from my _car_.”

“I am sure that violates some kind of health code...” Ignis’s voice was nearly patronizing.

“Hey, can I get a Moscow Mule?”

“Yes, of cour-“

Ignis, much to his chagrin, failed to take into consideration how closely he had to crouch next to the bar in order to slide the glasses onto the shelf. As a result, when he stood up to greet the customer, he bashed his skull into the edge of the countertop hard enough for his vision to go white.

He was not proud of the stream of profanity that followed.

“Oh my god! Iggy, are you okay?!” Cindy squawked, by his side in an instant.

Ignis slammed the highball onto the rubber mat and leaned forward, clutching his head with one hand while pillowing it in the forearm he rested against the bar.

Cindy set a hand on the middle of his back. It was very likely meant to be comforting, but some sort of primal instinct to protect himself kicked in, and he flinched away with an agitated hiss.It twisted and pulled the muscle group over his flank enough for it to spasm, and he quickly reached back to apply pressure with his fingertips to coax them into relaxing, gasping through the unpleasant sensation.

“Oh, I’m sorry -!”

“I’m fine.”

Ignis’s words were forced out through clenched teeth, which ground together as he struggled to center himself. Faintly, through the ringing in his ears, he could hear a familiar voice approach.

“What happened?”

 _Crap_.

Cindy, wide-eyed and chewing on her lip nervously, took a step back as their boss approached. “He bonked his head trying to take an order...”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Ignis insisted for a second time.

Camelia clicked her tongue. “Why is he holding his side?”

Cindy shifted her weight to her other foot with a guilty frown.“I think I spooked him, tryin’a touch him…”

Camelia waved towards the front of the bar, where the same patron from before was still dawdling about, looking every bit uncomfortable.

“You go take care of him,” she ordered, “Let me handle this.”

Cindy gave him one last wistful look before grabbing a ginger beer from the fridge and returning to the bar.

Ignis pushed himself away from the counter, blinking rapidly as if it would keep his vision from swirling, “I’ll be alright –“

Camelia was not interested in his assurances. “Go home, Ignis.”

“What? _No_ –“

Camelia sighed and leaned against the bar, arms folded over her pristine Chanel suit jacket. “I saw you trip and drop a bottle of gin earlier, Ignis, and you have been guzzling coffee all night. You are dead on your feet. Go home – get some rest before you hurt someone _else,_ and get a lawsuit dropped in my lap.”

Ignis’s hands curled into tight fists, his nails biting into the textured skin of his palms.

“I need the hours,” he pleaded.

Camelia rolled her eyes. “Missing three hours of pay won’t break your bank. Go. Home.”

The muscles over his jaw flexed. The hourly wage he got from working wasn’t the important part – Ignis needed the _tips_. The prices they charged for drinks weren’t high, so customers were always willing to tip a little more than they would at other bars in town. The final hours leading up to last call were when he made most of his money.

He couldn’t just _leave_ – especially when he already missed out on half an hour of those tips.

But this was Camelia, and she was the boss. And Ignis didn’t particularly make a habit of arguing with his bosses.

There was another uncomfortable silence between them, which was filled with some kind of remix that was doing nothing for the headache that was made infinitely worse by the impact against the counter.

Finally, Ignis released a sigh of resignation.

“Alright.”

Camelia offered what she probably thought was a kind, if somewhat pitying, smile.

It looked more like the sneer a cartoon lion would wear before devouring its food.

And, with that, she turned on her heels and made her way back towards her office.

Ignis grit his teeth and kept his face turned down towards the floor as he pushed past Cindy to make a beeline for the staff room, not wanting to clue everyone in on just how distraught he felt at the idea of having to leave just a few hours into his shift.

Through the irritation and underlying worry he felt, he knew that it _would_ be best for him to go home. Exhaustion was already making him careless, which would make him a work hazard – hell, it already _was_. It also lowered his work performance, with two patrons having already come up to the bar to ask Cindy if she could fix cocktails that Ignis had made. From an employer’s perspective, it was better to send him home than to have him screwing around on the floor.

That didn’t make him any less upset about it, though.

 

* * *

 

 

The drive home wasn’t any less unpleasant, at least for Ignis’s mood.

There were two wrecks on the interstate that forced traffic to come to a complete halt, and the CD player in his car decided that it wasn’t going to read anything he put into it so, by the time he pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex, he was ready to spit fire at anyone who delayed him for even a moment longer.

The faint aroma of mold and mildew hardly registered with him as he trudged down the hallway, hardly noticing the various stains and scuffs that littered the walls. It took three tries and a quick jiggle of the knob to finally get the door to his apartment open; it looked like his landlord still hadn’t replaced the locks like he’d asked.

As soon as it was open, however, Ignis was immediately greeted by the warm scent of… Lavender?

“Ignis? Is that you, dear?”

Ignis toed off his sneakers at the door and nudged them off to the side.

“Did you light a candle?” he asked, eyes scanning the room for the source of the aroma.

From around the corner, a slight old woman appeared with a small child in her arms.

“I’m afraid I have been having some trouble getting him to sleep, so I tried burning some of my incense to help him fall asleep,” Ezma explained, “I hope you don’t mind…”

Ignis shook his head but frowned, taking the child that was being passed to him, “He’s still _awake_..?”

Carefully cradling him to his chest with one arm, Ignis brought a hand down to touch the flat bottom of Noctis’s foot. He didn’t _feel_ feverish, so he wasn’t sick…

Across the living room, Ezma picked up a small pack of tissues from the coffee table and tucked them away into her purse.

“I wouldn’t worry too much,” she assured him, “All three of my babies would get restless when Gerald and I weren’t around for bedtime.”

As if on cue, Noctis adjusted himself in Ignis’s hold so he could nuzzle his neck with a silent yawn. Ezma smiled sweetly and walked across the living room, stopping just long enough to rub gentle circles into the toddler’s back back. When he was sure she wouldn’t take note of it, Ignis tucked a twenty dollar bill in her purse.

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair. If you need me for anything, you know where I’ll be.”

“Thank you so much for your help. Have a lovely evening.”

“Of course, dear. Try to get some rest.”

Once the door was locked, Ignis moved back to the living room – or, rather, the one part of the room that wasn’t his kitchen – and sank into the sofa with a long, heavy sigh.

He sat in a silence for several minutes, the soft sounds and subtle rocking of Noctis’s breathing helping him unwind. Every now and then he would wriggle around in his arms to get more comfortable, and each time Ignis could only focus on how soft his cheek felt against his own, which must have a patchy five o’clock shadow by this point. He nuzzled his nose into the side of his head. Noctis’s hair was always so smooth and silky, like a thousand down feathers brushing along his skin. And he always smelled so _clean_ …

Ignis’s eyes slipped shut, and he cradled him closer to his chest. A familiar calm fluttered over his chest, relaxing the tension in his shoulders, and expelling any remnants of the agitation he felt from earlier. He leisurely kissed his hair, his temple, every part of him that his lips could reach in their current position.

“Daddy loves you so much, Noctis.”

By the time the ticking wall clock struck one a.m., they were both fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

If Ignis were asked to name a skill he had picked up since Noctis’s birth, he would explain how he had learned to accomplish several tasks while moving very, very quietly.

Carefully, as to not cause them to bounce and make any unnecessary noise, he slid the closet doors shut to muffle the low humming that came from the dryer. A small basket of clean clothes was tucked against his hip with his free hand, which he carried over to the living room to deal with in a moment.

First, Ignis needed to plan something for dinner.

Which he imagined would be significantly easier if, when he opened the fridge door, there was actually _food_.

Well, there was a lot of empty space between items, but the shelves weren’t _entirely_ bare… A half-empty carton of strawberries, milk, some bean sprouts, a sealed pack of firm tofu, carrots, and… Ignis straightened up to swing open the freezer door. Maybe a third of a bag of peas.

Well, peas and carrots were sort of a staple for kids’ meals, right? He could do something with that, and the tofu…

_Damnit!_

How did he forget to go _grocery shopping?!_

Probably because Ignis spent the entirety of the day before cleaning the apartment from top to bottom.

It had started out with just him cleaning up the disaster that was his coffee table when he introduced Noctis to finger-painting, but it quickly escalated to him scrubbing the bathtub with bleach and wiping grease stains from the wall behind his stove (which Ignis was pretty sure was a relic from the fifties).

He pulled the peas out of the freezer and dropped them into the sink to thaw before reaching into the refrigerator for the tofu. Okay, this wasn’t a _complete_ trainwreck. Ignis would have to load Noctis up in the car and head to the grocery store after they ate, but he could work with what he had for now.

No biggie –

The muted sound of his phone cut his thoughts short just as he managed to peel back the thin plastic cover. He stared in confusion at the wall in front of him.

…

Where was that coming from?

Noctis’s hiccupping moans answered his question for him.

Ignis dropped the container into the sink, quickly grasping at the nearby dishtowel to dry his hands of the tofu water that had gotten onto his hands while trying to drain the package, before rushing over to Noctis’s closed bedroom door. He was sitting upright in his bed, sheets pooled around his hips. One hand was clutching the corner of his blanket, the other reaching out for Ignis, grasping at the air between them, as his moans of disapproval for being woken up turned into wailing.

“I know, dear, I know,” Ignis snatched his phone off of her nightstand and kneeled down next to her bed as he crooned, “I know, I know, daddy’s sorry he woke you up.”

Noctis twisted around in his bed to all but fall into his shoulder, so he wrapped one arm around his waist while his free hand accepted the call.

“Hello?”

_“Oh, damn.”_

Ignis rolled his eyes. Yes, oh damn.

“Is there something the matter, Aranea?”

It took a fair amount of self-control to not allow his exasperation to leak into his voice as he rose to his feet with his son cradled to his chest.

_“Oh, uh, are you free to come in for the closing shift today?”_

“What happened to Nyx?”

On the other end of the line, Aranea huffed. " _He called out **sick**.”_

After a collective twelve months of working at the coffee shop together, Ignis had managed to crack the code that was the excruciatingly long list of the all-too frequently encountered excuses Nyx gave to get out of a shift he deemed less than desirable. Being sick usually meant that he was hungover from the night before, which was either impressive or sad depending on the way you looked at it.

Sighing, Ignis pulled his phone away from his face long enough to glance at the time. The closing shift started at six, and it was already four forty-five. It would be one hell of a rush, and this was supposed to be his day off...

Nuzzling his cheek against the top of Noctis's head, Ignis sighed.

“I am afraid that tonight won’t work. I have too much to do at home."

There was a thread of apology in his voice - he knew that Aranea relied on him to always be available to take on extra shifts - but Ignis _had_ to prioritize his time with Noctis over work, every now and then. Even if it meant losing out on enough pay to cover the costs of diapers for a month.

Besides, he was pretty sure that his only two uniform shirts were beyond the point of needing to be washed, and smelled absolutely _rank_ because of it.

On the other end of the line he could hear Aranea sigh, the gust of air clipping the mic in the phone.

“I'm sorry,” Ignis apologized, genuinely.

_"No, it’s fine. I’ll just try Monica, or threaten to beat Nyx to death until he comes in. Have a good night, Iggs."_

The call ended at that.

Ignis set the phone down on the nightstand, giving it a regretful stare before turning his attention back to the child that was realizing he was too sleepy to throw much of a tantrum. By this point, he was just mewling and hiccuping out of spite, more interested in cuddling than actually putting any effort into expressing his displeasure over being rudely woken from his nap.

Ignis crossed the small room to the glider that sat next to the window - still the best deal he had ever happened across at the flea market, to date - and lowered himself into the cushions, careful not to jostle Noctis in doing so. Trying to put him directly into bed in a bad mood would just get him riled up as he tried to fight it, so he would spend some time with him until he fell back to sleep. If he was lucky, the warmth from the sunlight pouring in from the window would help speed up the process.

Rocking back and forth, Ignis closed his eyes and stroked his back with the hand not supporting his bottom. He was getting a little heavier, he noted. His back was a tad longer, too.

Ignis kissed the top of his down-like hair, whispering, “Quit growing up, you."

He wanted him to stay tiny forever, all cute and and tiny and wholly dependent on him.

Noctis's breathing soon evened out and, apparently he, also, was worn out from their afternoon at the park, because it wasn't long before the gentle rhythm of the rocking, and the subtle up and down of his chest, began to take its toll on Ignis.

At some point, his eyes closed.

It was only when the quiet ding of the dryer completing its cycle broke the pleasant silence that they opened again.

The room was bathed in orange and, when the fog in his head cleared enough for him to find it, the clock read 5:35.

Ignis looked down at Noctis, who was drooling on his chest in blissful unconsciousness. Tiny shadows were cast over his rosy, plump cheeks by the long lahes his daycare teachiss always commented on. He hated waking him up - Noctis was so _cute_ when he was asleep.

Hell, he was adorable literally every moment of the day (maybe less so when he was screeching at three in the morning), but there was something about the peaceful way he looked when he was asleep that always made Ignis's heart feel overfull.

As if he could feel his gaze on his, Noctis made a small noise in the back of his throat just seconds before his eyes opened and he turned his face up to peer at him curiously. They were his mother’s, his eyes, and they were beautiful.

“Did you sleep well?"

Noctis ignored him and rested his head back on his father’s shoulder, readjusting himself to snuggle closer before closing his eyes again to submit to the call of sleep.

“No, no, Noctis,” Ignis smoothed his hand over the back of his head, his thumb brushing at his feathisy hair.

“It's time to wake up."

Noctis ignored him.

“Nooooctiiiisssss~" He kept his tone soft and song-like, kissing the top of his head, “Daddy has to make dinner. Aren't you getting hungry?"

 _That_ piqued his interest. Noctis nodded and groggily pushed himself up to properly sit in his lap.

“Hungy, daddy."

Well, that settled that. Ignis rose from the glider with Noctis still in his arms to make his way into the living room, not quite yet ready to set his down.

Noctis had other plans, however.

Once Ignis crouched down to turn on the laptop he had plugged in to the modest television set he owned, Noctis was slipping out of his hold and waddling over to where his coloring books were tucked away on one of helves of the entertainment stand.

Um, sure, okay.

Trying to not feel too snubbed, Ignis tapped around on the keyboard until the newest episode of Beauty Bible was playing on the television.

Thankfully, the coloring book Noctis dragged onto the floor was enough to keep his occupied while he dumped the thawed peas into a small saucepan. He turned the bag over to read the cooking instructions.

_'Pour frozen peas into saucepan on medium heat.'_

Well… Crap. Ignis eyed the peas, a couple of which were pale and wrinkled from freezer burn. It wasn't like he could just toss them back into the freezer, as late as it was...

Ignis plucked the freezer burnt pieces free, and chucked them in the nearby trash can.

It was probably fine.

He retrieved the small bag of baby carrots from the fridge, along with the tofu.

Protein, vitamins, calcium, omega-3s, fiber, carbs… As he used a dull santoku knife to chop the carrots into medallions small enough for Noctis's mouth, Ignis went through a mental checklist to make sure that all of the nutritional bases were covered - or, well, as many as _could_ be covered, given the present situation.

It would take a while for the carrots to boil until they were soft enough for Noctis to chew so Ignis soon left the stove to attend to the laundry. Considering Ignis had all of, like, four outfits, the amount of laundry that seemed to always be in need of washing was baffling. Granted, the machines that came with the apartment were pretty small, but how was there enough for _four full loads?_

“Noctisss~"

Ignis pulled a stuffed carbuncle off of the top of a very full laundry basket once it was set on the floor next to the coffee table.

“Look who's all nice and clean?"

Noctis looked up from his coloring book and _shrieked_ , springing up from where he was seated on his ankles to take the bear from his outstretched hand, "Cubby!"

Ignis grinned at his excitement, “Maybe, next time, we won't try to teach him how to fingerpaint?"

Thank _Shiva_ it was washable paint. Noctis would probably have a stroke if that thing ever actually got damaged.

Noctis had already turned his attention back to the coloring book, though, holding the carbuncle in one hand while his other hand clumsily colored a horse purple.

Ignis watched with fond amusement as he did his best to keep the crayon within the lines like he had been trying to teach him, with the majority of the strokes going wayward and leaving the horse’s head little more than a blob. Still, it was clear that Noctis’s hand-eye coordination _was_ starting to improve.

Pleased, Ignis turned his attention back to the show he had put on.

The hosts were running a segment on hairstyles for holiday parties. They were cute, but Ignis honestly couldn’t remember the last party he had attended – surely, it was back in middle school. Coworkers would invite him out for get-togethers, though they were usually at places that Ignis either couldn’t afford, or couldn’t bring his son. He fast-forwarded through the segment until he landed on something that was relevant to his interests.

It wasn’t until Noctis grumbled incoherently that he looked up from folding up what felt like the five-millionth sock.

Noctis had pulled his carbuncle into his lap and was shoving a crayon into his hand (paw?), awkwardly dragging it over the coloring book. It seemed that his endeavor wasn’t producing the results he was anticipating, though, if the way his face was cinched tight was any indication.

“Noctis, are you teaching Cubby how to color?”

He nodded, eyes fixed on the page, where a flower was beginning to resemble a sea urchin.

Ignis pulled his phone out of his back pocket to turn the camera on his, smiling fondly. “Is he doing a good job?” he asked.

This time, Noctis shook his head.

Ignis snorted and covered his mouth. Children were brutal.

“Maybe he just needs to practice,” he assured him, “Are you going to help him get better?”

“I help Cubby color,” Noctis confirmed, determination in his little voice.

Snapping a couple more photos, Ignis set the phone aside and pulled a familiar onesie out from the laundry for folding. One of the seams seemed to be coming loose.

“Maybe teddy just needs to slow down and take his time,” he suggested, “If he is patient, he will be able to color in the lines.”

Noctis leaned to the side to look at the stuffed animal’s face, patting its head. “Go slow, Cubby.”

Ignis’s chest felt ripe to burst. He was so _cute_! He grabbed his phone again for several more pictures before dropping his it into the laundry basket and rising to a standing position.

“Can you and teddy color daddy a picture while he makes dinner?”

Noctis abruptly held up the coloring book with both hands, catapulting a crayon across the room. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care, because he was proudly beaming up at him as if he were presenting Simba to the pride.

Ignis offered a strained smile, knowing that the crayon was never going to be seen, again. “That looks great, sweetheart!”

Translation: I have no idea what I am looking at, but those are some colorful blobs, right there.

The next half hour passed by with little incident. Noctis didn’t try to stick a crayon nub up his nose, Ignis didn’t burn the tofu while baking it, and the picture he drew with his carbuncle was… Well, a picture he drew by gripping a crayon through a stuffed animal’s hand.

Ignis finished up the laundry while his son ate his dinner from plastic plate with portion compartments so, by the time he had cleaned his plate, everything was ready to be put away.

“Noctis, would you like to help daddy put laundry away?”

For reasons Ignis failed to understand, Noctis _loved_ helping with household chores almost as much as he loved building sand castles at the park, with laundry being one of his favorite activities.

He predictably threw his arms up to be let out of his high chair, grinning ear to ear, and shrieked, “Airpayne!”

Ignis wasted no time in lifting his from his plastic prison, swinging and bouncing his around just to listen to his laugh before plopping his down into the "airplane" (laundry basket) with his clothes. It was a common game between the two, and Ignis was in a light enough mood to indulge his adventure-seeking son.

“We’re taking off, Noctis!”

Noctis giggled and bounced in the laundry basket, gripping the sides to keep himself stable. As soon as Ignis lifted it up, he started to make his version of airplane noises – which was mostly his just blowing raspberries and getting spittle everywhere. Ignis joined in, as well, which was something that was fuck-all difficult when he was smiling almost uncontrollably.

“Daddy wrong way!” Noctis whined, when his father intentionally started to carry their “airplane” to the other side of the living room.

Ignis chuckled and careened away from the front door, “You mean this way?” He started towards his room.

“No! No!” Noctis twisted around in the laundry basket to point towards his bedroom, “My woom!”

Ignis bounced the laundry basket as he turned to his open door. He leaned into the directions that Ignis turned them to help with steering, looking quite determined as he did so, which was quite probably the cutest thing he’d ever seen. The toddler quickly remembered to make his airplane noises, lest they ‘crash’ from the lack of power. The whole time, Ignis was careful to not let his lean too much and fall out.

“Okay, Noct, it’s time to land!”

The announcement prompted Noctis to make a whirring sound – an imitation of the whistling played in cartoons when something was falling. He was still unable to whistle, though, so it was mostly an extended sigh.

“Good boy! Now – help daddy put it away.” He helped Noctis climb out of the laundry basket, smoothing out his perpetually unruly hair, “Can you show me whose your socks go?”

Ignis couldn’t afford buying proper dressers for their rooms, and neither of them had closets, so he had settled on a fabric cubby shelf system to store Noctis’s clothes when buying furniture. Now that Noctis was getting stronger and developing, the cubbies proved to be more useful than he had initially anticipated.

He paused for a moment, looking thoughtfully at the helves before carefully pulling one of the polyester drawers free. He stood on his tiptoes to peer into it, then looked at his father questioningly.

“Is that it?” he asked, trying to bait some confidence out of him, “Is that where your shirts go?”

Unsure of himself, Noctis held it out for him.

Ignis looked in as if he didn’t already know the answer, wanting to build up the moment. Sure enough, there was a single character print shirt at the bottom of the container.

“That’s it!” he cheered, “You found it!”

Noctis’s triumphant smile was _radiant_. He shrieked and stomped his bare feet in excitement, drawer bouncing around.

Ignis slid the laundry basket around to put it between them. “Okay, Noctis, now put your yellow shirt in the cubby.”

Noctis frowned at the laundry basket.

“Can you show daddy your yellow shirt?”

The laundry was sorted into three stacks of clothing, with two of those stacks being topped with shirts. The yellow one was right on top, so all he had to do was pick one of the two. Noctis crouched down so that he was squatting in front of the basket, with a similar expression to what you would see from one of those characters in action movies that had to defuse a bomb by cutting the blue or red wire.

Slowly, he reached out for a blue shirt and picked it up.

Ignis kept his voice light as he said, “No, Noctis, that’s blue. Show daddy your yellow shirt.”

But Noctis had revealed the shirt beneath the blue one. There were now more options, which was probably confusing him. He whimpered, reaching out for the same shirt.

“That’s _blue_ , darling.”

Noctis held the shirt tight and released a telltale moan as his eyes filled up.

“No, darling, don’t cry,” he crooned, “You’re doing _so_ well, Noct, you’re making daddy _so_ happy.”

He let his hand fall into the basket, his knuckles grazing the yellow cotton. “Just take your time. Where is your yellow shirt?”

Noctis took the bait. Dropping the blue shirt into the basket, he tentatively picked up the correct garment.

Ignis clapped his hands, smiling as brightly as he could manage.“ _Good boy!_ You found your yellow shirt!”

He played up his excitement to keep Noctis from becoming discouraged too early in their game, and leaned forward to give him a kiss. While he wasn’t as animated as he was the first time, Noctis still giggled and put the shirt in the drawer.

Alright, time for an easy one.

“Now, where is your blue shirt?”

Noctis got this one almost immediately. He grabbed the earlier choice from the pile, which had been pulled from its neatly folded state by this point.

“That’s it! That’s your blue shirt!”

Noctis’s smile widened with delight, and he bounced in place.

“What color is that, Noctis?” Ignis asked, affection blooming in his chest.

Noctis waved the shirt around excitedly, “Bwoo!”

Ignis _beamed_ , pride oozing out of every one of his pores. “That’s right!”

He plucked a pair of socks from the laundry basket, “Can you tell daddy what color these are?”

“Pink!” Noctis immediately responded.

“Yes! And whose do they go?”

Noctis pointed at his feet.

Reaching over the basket, Ignis swept Noctis up in his arms to pepper kisses over his cheeks. “Oh, you’re so smart! You’re so smart, Noctis, you know that? You’re such a smart little boy!”

Noctis squealed and flapped his hands, smacking his head playfully. “Daddy! Laundy!”

Ignis buried his face in his silky hair. “No, daddy wants to snuggle a while longer.”

“Daaaddyyyy!”

What kind of kid turned down snuggles for _chores_?

With a bit more of smattering kisses over his face, Ignis released him so they could finish laundry. Thankfully, Noctis’s newfound confidence meant that the activity proceeded much faster than before.

Ignis watched with unmatched pride as he successfully located his denim overalls and put them in the proper drawer, sometimes picking up certain articles of clothing and announcing their color without being asked. It was surprising in all of the best ways to see him get almost every one correct, only becoming confused if there was a pattern.

Noctis insisted on helping with _his_ laundry, too, as he ran out to the living room to carry his folded clothes to the laundry basket. Most of it fell into a messy pile, but Ignis wasn’t about to slow his roll by needlessly chastising his for being impatient.

It was starting to get late, though, so Ignis scooped Noctis up from whose he was pointing at the different colors in his spotted trunks to carry his to his room; he made a quick pit stop to grab his carbuncle from the foot of the couch. He let him pick out his pajamas before combing his fingers through his hair to shake out any tangles. He was already yawning and blearily blinking at his surroundings by the time he was stripped down to his diaper. Poor thing probably used up all of his leftover energy from the park on laundry.

As important it was for his to have a set routine, Ignis decided that his bath could wait until morning. He didn’t want Noctis falling asleep in the tub, and it wasn’t as if he was sweating much at the park in thirty degree weather. He helped his into his pajamas and pulled the sheets back so he could crawl into his bed, handing over his teddy once he was snuggled in. Ignis flicked off the light, but didn’t leave the room immediately.

Instead, he kneeled by his bed in the dark. The tip of his finger trailed from his hairline to the tip of his nose, ghosting along his baby-soft skin at a leisurely pace.

“I love you, Noctis.”

Noctis didn’t respond to his whisper, already fast asleep.

Still kneeling by his side, Ignis wasn’t far behind. He let the gentle breathing of his son lull him to sleep, slouched over his tiny bed.

 

* * *

 

The warm, comforting scent of coffee greeted Ignis when he stepped through the door to the cafe, enveloping him like a soft blanket.

For as long as he'd worked there, he had yet to find himself sickened by the pungent smell of freshly-brewed coffee that continued to cling to his skin and hair long after his shifts ended.

Just as the tension in his shoulders began to bleed away, though, he was reminded that, of course, coffee lingering in the air meant that he was at _work_ ; this was no time for him to indulge.

With the same litheness that enabled him to navigate the bar's dance floor without touching a soul, Ignis carefully maneuvered around the impressive number of customers that lingered on the shop floor. There were at least ten people in line, with another ten waiting for their drinks - how did it get so busy on a Tuesday night? Aranea's red lipstick had long since faded away, the edges of her bangs were frizzing out at the corners, and some of her mascara transferred to her under eye; she was clearly feeling the rush. Poor thing must have been working since open again.

Ignis found it very difficult to envy the cafe's upper management.

After a quick hand washing, he took initiative to the bar and picked up the closest cup to read the label. It was by sheer luck that the majority of the orders were rather simple - a couple of black coffees, a peppermint macchiato, and some basic lattes - so the backlog was handled in a rather timely manner. With his and Aranea's conjoined efficiency, they even managed to get through the previously growing line in little more than a handful of minutes, until only a few customers were left waiting to have their orders taken.

There was one couple that made Ignis wonder why exactly two people needed four slices of coffee cake and five sausage sandwiches with their single chai tea, when they could get the same thing from a grocery store for less than half of the price, but he decided that he was only _really_ questioning it because there were only _three_ sausage sandwiches that were ready to go, and it was always uncomfortable to explain that they had run out of something for the day.

And Ignis was slightly miffed at the fact that he had to come in twice in one day, thanks to Nyx bailing on another shift, so everything was, like, at least eighty percent more annoying.

"Can I get a medium quad iced Americano with five sweetener packets, ten pumps of hazelnut -"

Ewww -

"And a packet of oatmeal stirred in?"

 _Ewww_! _Why_?

Why - that's just… That's not even _coffee_ anymore - it's just a mushy caffeine bomb laden with syrup!

How was Aranea even supposed to ring that up with the oatmeal included?

"And I'll just have a medium black coffee,” a rough, almost gravelly voice tacked on, a sharp contrast to the bubbly, girly voice of his companion.

Well, that explained how she was paying for all of those expensive shots of espresso and pumps of syrup. Ignis half-wished he had a guy to buy him _his_ trash coffee.

Like, _barely_ , though.

While Aranea rang them up, Ignis gave it his all to not accidentally get a whiff of the saccharine beverage being mixed. He had a gnarly sweet tooth, but even _this_ was too much. How did people even figure these concoctions out? Honestly – what the _hell_ led to someone discovering they wanted enough caffeine to kill an elephant, topped with ten pumps of hazelnut and oatmeal?

Ah, whatever. It didn’t matter, in the end. At least he wasn’t one of those neurotic snobs that Aranea decaffed as a personal snub.

Ignis secured the lid on the cup and slid it over the counter. “Iris?”

He offered a professional smile to the peppy brunette that flounced up to the bar, who was entirely unphased by the assault on her taste buds when she took a testing sip.

"It's _perfect_!” she chirped, “Thanks!"

Of course, she had to be a sweetheart.

Ignis snatched up the next cup and filled it with plain black coffee, which emptied the pot.

“Gladiolus?”

The man that walked up to the counter for his drink had to be at least six inches taller than him, with enough defined muscle mass for Ignis to be pretty sure that his forearm was twice the size of his own. An intricate eagle tattoo started in a point at the base of his neck and covered his right bicep, extending just a few inches past the elbow; Ignis could see it crossed over part of his chest, too, but the t-shirt he wore prevented him from seeing just how far it went.

The first thing that crossed Ignis's mind was that you had to be a dedicated masochist to put your body through that much pain just for appearances.

The second was that he suddenly felt very, very small.

Clearly oblivious to how overwhelming Ignis found his appearance, the man flashed a toothy smile that made his eyes crinkle.

“You can call me Gladio.”

Oh - oh, _dear_. Ignis's cheeks grew hot, and he had to busy himself by wiping his hands (which had absolutely nothing on them) on his apron.

The man took a sip of his coffee and winked, “Thanks. Have a good night."

Ignis watched him take his leave with what was presumably his date, who he very much respected. His eyes absolutely did _not_ linger on the way his t-shirt strained against his broad shoulders, or the way the muscles in his upper back shifted when he lifted his cup to his lips, or the way his jeans stretched tight over his ass as he leaned forward to get the door...

“Ignis, are you _blushing_?"

Lashes fluttering in surprise, Ignis tore his eyes away from the man to glare at his manager.

"Aw, that's so cute!"

Aranea turned his face towards the door.

"I don't blame you,” she admitted, “I wouldn't mind takin’ a bite out of _that_ chicken wing."

Ignis made a face and reached under the counter for the bag of coffee grounds so he could get to refilling the caffeinated pot that had just been emptied.

 

* * *

 

"So, do guys at the bar ever try to hit on you?"

Ignis plunged the mop back into the bucket, jiggling the handle a bit to make sure it was completely soaked before stuffing it into the wringer.

“Occasionally."

"You hook up with any of them?"

The conversation between them had yet to deviate from the subject of men throughout the entire length of their shared shift and, as someone that had little experience with the concept of dating, Ignis was finding himself increasingly exasperated as it dragged on.

“Of _course_ not."

He frowned at a sticky spot on the floor that was giving him trouble.

“A bartender that uses his job to take advantage of drunk men should have his certification revoked."

Well. It wasn’t as if Ignis was exactly a certified bartender (did Lucis require bartenders be licensed?), but the point still stood.

Looking up from the till that she was counting down, Aranea huffed disapprovingly.

"Obviously, I'm talking about the _sober_ ones,” she drawled, “Not everyone at a bar is shit-faced, you know."

A familiar ache next to his right shoulder blade decided to flare up, probably from the repetitive movements of the mopping. Ignis hid his grimace by hanging his head low which, unfortunately, only continued to pull on the longstanding knot in his back.

“And, what, bring them into the home where my twenty month-old son sleeps?” he snapped, “What happens if he turns out to be a psychopath?"

Aranea's frown deepened. Ignis didn't mean to come off as condescending as he sounded, but this wasn't the first misinformed person to make an attempt at pushing him back into the dating pool.

It was not as if he did not feel as if there were no options _available_ , he merely... Had no interest in expending the effort into finding a partner. Finding someone interested in hanging around a single father would be difficult enough, nevermind attempting the nigh impossible feat of scheduling dates around work and what little time he had with Noctis.

Besides, he just... Wasn't ready to open himself up like that, yet.

The sticky spot finally broke down into a manageable wet smudge, so Ignis made quick work of mopping it up before dunking the mop back into the bucket. He used his foot to nudge it along the floor, thankful for the fact that only one of the small four wheels was stuck.

"You're a real pessimist, you know,” Aranea pointed out.

Yeah, well, life does that.

“Will you at least come out to the get-together this weekend, then? We're going to the new Japanese place on Madison for dinner."

Yeah, right. If he went out with them, Aranea would just try to get him drunk and play wingman, again.

“I appreciate the offer, but I have to be at the bar by seven to get ready to open."

Aranea huffed. "I didn't even say what _day_ we were meeting, though!"

Water splashed around his toes when Ignis slapped the mop against the tile a tad aggressively, his patience wearing thin.

“I work all three weekend nights,” he reminded.

Which was something that she already knew because, as the store manager, Aranea was the one in charge of creating his cafe schedule _around_ his schedule at the bar.

"Ah. Right."

Finished counting down the register, Aranea dropped the profits cash into a specially marked plastic bag and labeled it before tucking it into a manila envelope with the profits from the other till.

"Still, Ignis..."

She stacked the register drawers on top of one another and set the manila envelope on top to carry them into the office. “Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to just get out every now and then. Treat yourself."

The rest of their shift was carried out in silence.

 

* * *

 

“So the Marine ball is, like, a _week_ away. I tell her that everything’s ready, the hotel’s paid for, and I ask her if she’s finished packing,” a disgruntled regular, Crowe, grumbled, “She says ‘Oh, yeah, yeah! I’m packed and can’t wait to see you!’ Then, I shit you not, two days before she was supposed to be here, _she breaks up with me!”_

Ignis furrowed his brow in disgust. “That sounds awful. Did she explain why?”

Crowe waved her hand in gesture. “ _No!_ She just said that it was over!” she balanced a coaster on the bar with her fingertip, “I just skipped the ball and bought a bunch of booze to have my own party in the barracks. Fuck that shit.”

Ignis turned his face down to scoop some ice into the metal shaker filled with crème de menthe green, crème de cacao white, and cream.

“Well, at least you found a way to have your own fun, despite the unfortunate circumstances.”

He strained the cocktail into a highball glass and set it in front of the customer, whose cheeks were beginning to flush from the alcohol. Did she have a DD?

One of the customers sitting at the bar slid an empty glass forward so, making a mental note to keep an eye on her, he made his way down the bar to remove it from the bartop. “Another?”

“Please.”

Ignis gave a quick nod before turning towards the mini fridge, swiping the half-gallon of orange juice and carrying it to the shelves of liqueur and other less frequently used alcohols for the lone bottle of campari. He had to dance around Cindy a bit, who was pouring a pitcher of draft beer right in front of where he needed to go, but managed to twist around and scoop up more ice into another shaker to make the garibaldi. It wasn’t exactly a popular cocktail, so Ignis had to whip out his phone for the correct measurements before dumping them into the rapidly chilling metal cup.

Another person flagged him down for another round of cheap beers for his pals, so Ignis was saved from any further attempt at conversation with the broken-hearted lesbian that was fuming into her drink.

He flitted from one side of the bar to the other to retrieve various ingredients and mix them together when he wasn’t rinsing out any number of mixing cups, stopping only long enough to add orders to their respective tabs before he was moving again.

This was the one thing he genuinely enjoyed about his job: working in a fast-paced environment (like, say, a gay bar in a densely populated city) meant that he never had time to stop and check the clock, which made his night go by a lot faster.

It also didn’t give him time to worry about the stack of envelopes on his counter from companies demanding money from him.

“Can I get a pint of Stella when you get the chance?”

Holy _shit_ –

Ignis whirled around, eyes wide with surprise, to find a familiar mountain of a man leaning over the lacquered wooden counter.

It was only by a stroke of luck that he also remembered Ignis.

Gladiolus’s eyes, so _blue_ , crinkled around the edges with a smile that made Ignis’s tummy somersault.

“Oh, _hey_! What’re you doing here?”

“Preparing another beverage for you, it seems,” he mumbled, still taken aback by the man’s appearance.

“Is this your thing?” Gladiolus gestured at his hands, “You just make drinks all day?”

His tone was light, and teasing, and Ignis clamped his teeth down on his bottom lip to keep his mouth from curling into a shy smile.

“So it would appear. Tap or bottle?”

“Tap.” The wink Gladiolus gave him made it clear that the beer wasn’t the only thing he wanted on _tap_.

Ignis managed to tear his eyes away from his face long enough to pull a frosted beer glass from another mini fridge.

“How long’ve you been working here?” he asked, “I’ve been here a few times with some buds, but never saw you.”

Ignis pulled the ornate Stella Artois handle, angling the mug. “Only a few months. I typically work the back.”

Camelia’s establishment, Leviathan, had a bar in the front by the dance floor, and another shoved up in the back corner by the pool tables. The only time Ignis was asked to come up to the front was on particularly busy weekends when Cindy struggled to keep up with demand.

Something glinted in the back of Gladiolus’s gaze as he accepted the drink that was slid in front of him, lips quirked upwards into a smile that would be charming if it didn’t look almost wolfish in the dim lighting.

“I’ll have to be sure to pay more visits to the back, then.”

When he passed his credit card over, Ignis didn’t miss the way Gladiolus intentionally maneuvered his hand so that their knuckles brushed.

 _Oh_ , his hand was _warm_.

“Are you keeping it open?” he asked, already entering the order into their computer.

His lopsided smirk expanded, a dimple appearing on his tanned cheek.

“ _Definitely_ open.”

Ignis decided then that he was laying it on just a _tad_ too thick.

He brought his free hand up to idly rub at the ache in his back as he tapped the screen to enter the order, though the action was akin to using a band-aid on a gunshot wound. All it really did was make Ignis wish he could afford a proper massage as he tucked the card underneath the register. "You are all set."

Gladiolus made no effort to leave from the seat he had taken the liberty of claiming for himself, but Ignis didn't make anything of it. Not everyone who went to bars were with a pack of friends; some, like Crowe, who was slurping down her grasshopper, simply enjoyed the atmosphere (or, well, _trying_ to, in light of recent events. Poor girl).

A handful of orders later, though, Gladiolus took his half-empty pint glass and pushed away from the bar to disappear into the throng of people.

Ignis bit the frown out of his lip.

As did every night, a lull finally rolled around that gave him the chance to dart out from behind the bar with a grey bin designated for dirty dishes tucked under his arm.

"Does this belong to any of you?" he asked a group of women, who briefly paused their conversation to glance at a cocktail resting on the high top behind them. When they shook their heads and turned back to one another, Ignis plucked it from the table and set it into the bin. Judging by the pool of condensation gathered at the base, it wouldn't be missed by whoever paid for it.

He continued to make his rounds, carefully avoiding bumping into any strangers where he could in his journey to collect abandoned glasses and wipe down tables that needed it thanks to Cindy’s habit of filling drinks to the brim. All the while, green eyes scanned the scores of mostly unrecognizable faces while he moved.

You know, for a man of his stature, he was surprisingly talented at keeping a low profile...

Due to the chilly weather there were significantly fewer people outside on the patio. What few stragglers there were, were huddled together around the metal heater that sat in the middle of some patio furniture. Ignis quickly glanced at the tables from the doorway, checking for any dishes left behind -

There was one person sitting in the back, peering down at something in his hand, and Ignis may or may not have had a little bounce in his step as he crossed the patio deck.

"MayI take that off your hands?"

Gladiolus's head jerked up from lap, and immediately shoved whatever he was holding into his pocket.

"Huh?"

Ignis gestured at the empty pint glass resting on the table next to him.

"Oh - yeah." Gladiolus's eyes followed his movements as Ignis reached over for the glass. "Busy tonight?"

Ignis adjusted the bin so it rested on his hip, shifting his weight to a different foot.

"No more than any other Saturday,” he shrugged, “Are you enjoying your night out, as you isolate yourself from the entire bar?”

Gladiolus grinned. "I am now."

Ignis's faux-disinterested hum didn't go unnoticed, given the way Gladiolus's expression curled inwards.

When he reached up to rub his chin nervously, Ignis _absolutely_ didn't pay attention to the way his bicep pushed against the already straining hem of his shirt sleeve.

"Too much?"

He hummed again, twisting his lips to the side.

"I can assure you that you needn't waste that brand of charm on someone like me."

He had no intentions of falling prey to that predatory smirk. That smirk belonged to that cute dark-haired girl at the coffee shop.

Even if, maybe, he was already spending more time out here than he should be.

Thankfully, at that, Gladiolus's expression melted into a more natural lopsided grin.

“You look tired,” he noted, not unkindly.

No, shit. He was coming close to being on his feet for twelve straight hours.

"Do you get any breaks?"

Ignis thought for a moment, gaze rolling over the dark hair that framed his strong jaw.

"If I say yes, will you keep me company during my thirty?"

"Is your thirty _soon_?"

"It _can_ be, so long as you do not become intoxicated in the ten minutes it will take for me to wash these."

Gladiolus leaned back in his chair, which creaked beneath his weight, with a satisfied smile.

“Close out my tab, on your way back?"

Ignis bit his lip for the third time that night, this time to keep himself from matching his grin.

His pace back to the kitchen was a little quicker than normal, and he found himself struggling to keep himself from rushing through cleaning the dishes. It was ridiculous, given how Ignis normally avoided, well, _everyone_ , but there was something about Gladiolus that felt... Warm. Kind.

He took a couple more orders for a guy that left a lousy tip before closing out Gladiolus's tab and grabbing a couple bottles of water to take onto the patio, popping some acetaminophen into his mouth on his way out. Gladiolus had relocated to the now-vacant wicker couch next to the heating unit, for which Ignis was thankful for when a cold breeze swept through.

"You are quite difficult to find in a crowd, you know,” he said, half-complaining.

Gladiolus raised an eyebrow and slid across the seat to give Ignis some room to sit, giving him a curious stare when he made a point to sit in the metal chair next to it.

"You were looking for me?"

Ignis mentally kicked himself, and quickly changed the subject. "So, explain to me why you are out here on your own, rather than indoors?"

"I'unno. I came here thinking I'd hookup with someone, but I'm just...” Gladiolus shrugged, that grin faltering only just enough for Ignis to take notice. “Not into it, lately. Couldn't be bothered last couple times I went out, too."

He cracked open the bottle that was offered to him, Ignis following suit.

"Could it be due to stress?" he asked, idly wondering if that girl had just been an attempted hookup.

With a small shake of his head, Gladiolus leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Nah, I think I've just grown out of that kinda stuff."

Ignis settled back into the cool metal back of the chair, folding one knee over the other to indulge in the opportunity to rest his aching body. With his lips ghosting over the bottle opening he asked, "How old are you?"

"Thirty-six."

 _Thirty-six?_ Was this guy for real? Ignis would have pegged him to be in his late _twenties_ , at most.

Astrals, he wore his age well.

"Well, that _is_ about the age many begin looking to settle down at,” he commented around a sip.

“You callin' me old?” Gladiolus scoffed and took a swig of water, “How old are _you_?"

Ignis grinned into his bottle.

"I would never."  He paused for a sip. "Twenty-two."

"Oh, _fuck_ , and here I was trying to _hit_ on you. You're the same age as my damn _baby sister_."

Ignis smiled coyly and let his hand holding the bottle rest over his knee.

"Were you? I hadn't noticed."

Gladiolus rubbed the back of his neck, offering a sheepishly apologetic expression. "Yeah, sorry about that."

“It's quite alright.” Ignis waved him off, “I just try to not make a habit of encouraging customers' advances."

 _And what the hell do you call this?_ a contemptuous voice hissed in his head.

“You get that a lot?"

It was Ignis's turn to shrug.

"It comes with the territory of serving tequila on a regular basis,” he explained, almost bored with the idea, “So long as they keep their hands to themselves, it does not bother me."

Gladiolus chuckled around his bottle, "Yeah, tequila can make you do some fuckin' crazy shit."

Ignis raised an eyebrow.

"You speak from experience?"

A flash of teeth. " _Way_ too much experience."

Ignis rolled his eyes, feeling a little bit of his interest drop as he said, "Well, I hope you at least had the presence of mind to use a condom."

A laugh loud enough to make Ignis jump out of his skin tore through the otherwise silent air between them.

"Honestly? Most of them don't even _involve_ sex,” he clarified, “Most are just me doing stupid shit - like climbing on top a guard tower in my boxers, and waking up in some part of Seattle I'd never seen before. Also in my boxers."

Ignis's expression curled inwards as he finished his water bottle, giving Gladiolus a once over.

"Do you lose your clothes _often?_ " he asked, fully aware of how suggestive his tone was becoming.

"Depends on the guy I’m with." Gladiolus winked.

Ignis laughed - really _laughed_ , for the first time in god knows how long - and pressed the tips of his fingers to his lips to keep himself from smiling too broadly.

"Good to know."

Gladiolus laughed, too, shoulders bouncing jovially, and he ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Nah, really, though, I can't drink like that anymore. I kinda like waking up _not_ feeling like I'm gonna die."

Ignis nodded in agreement. "I can understand that."

A silence fell between them as their shared train of thought reached the end of its rope.

Ignis leaned his head back to look up at the stars, only to find the faint outlines of nighttime cloud cover floating through the sky. He sighed, watching his breath puff in front of his face and dissipate into the air above him. It was much too cold for him to spend much more time out here with his impressively terrible circulation, but Ignis wasn't quite ready to go back inside to the noise and mass of bodies.

He scooted his chair closer to the heater and settled back into the chair.

"Cold?" Gladiolus asked, his voice like two rocks rubbing together.

Ignis nodded. "I get cold easier than most others."

"Want my jacket?” the other man offered, “I grew up an Islander, so I'm pretty sure I'll die if I expose myself to anything under seventy, so I gotta keep the hoodie under it, but the jacket’s still pretty damn warm."

Ignis cracked a smile at that and lolled his head to the side to meet his gaze. "Accordan?"

"Galahdian."

Oh, that was new.

"My dad moved us to Accordo when I was in my teens, though - thought it would be easier to assimilate us to another life if he picked a state that still held onto its culture."

"Did it?"

Gladiolus chuckled and shook his head.

"Not really, no. Island or not, it was still different from what we were used to. He might as well've moved us to anywhere else in the world."

"So, what are you doing in Insomnia?"

"My youngest sister goes to school here.” Gladiolus shrugged. “The one you saw at the coffee shop."

Ignis couldn’t help but feel somewhat astonished by the admittance. "You uprooted yourself and moved across the globe for your sister? You must be quite close."

For a fleeting moment, Gladiolus's expression tightened. Only just so.

“It was complicated,” he muttered, “She needed me, and I didn't have anything really keeping me where I was. My dad moved here, too, but that wasn't just a few months ago."

Ignis nodded to silently convey his understanding. He was no stranger to complicated situations.

"That is very honorable of you, Gladiolus."

Pink tinged Gladiolus's cheeks and he turned his eyes to the gas-controlled fire.

“Yeah, well, I'm sure you would've done it for anyone in your family."

For Noctis? Absolutely. His parents..? Not so much.

Ignis was not the forgiving type.

He watched the shadows cast by the short flames dance across Gladiolus's face, drinking in his features. He had a rather strong bone structure, Ignis noted, with high cheekbones standing parallel to a sharp jawline. His nose was strong, but sported a telltale bump of past breakage. It worked well with Gladiolus's wide, towering frame.

Someone like him should have intimidated Ignis, like he did in those first few seconds at the cafe, but there was something about Gladiolus, something he found himself unable to put his finger on, that was warm and calming.

Ignis felt at ease, almost.

 

* * *

 

“Hey."

Something rough and heavy weighed down on his wrist, warming the skin.

"Ignis? C'mon, you'll get sick if you sleep out here too long."

Ignis jolted awake, ripping his arm out from under Gladiolus's hold on instinct. It was the kind of awakening that sent adrenaline pumping through your system, as your heart raced almost painfully against the confines of your chest, from waking up in an unfamiliar location. It took nearly a solid minute for Ignis to get his bearings.

"Oh, dear, did I fall asleep?" he asked, removing his glasses to rub at his eyes, as if the drool on his shoulder didn't make it obvious enough.

Gladiolus winked. "'Course not. You wouldn’t fall asleep on the job, like that."

What a team player.

"You should actually still have a few minutes left before you gotta go in."

Ignis frowned and rubbed at his face with both hands, as if he could somehow massage his grogginess away. "I apologize."

Gladiolus arched an eyebrow. "For?"

"I was supposed to be spending my break with you,” he half-sighed, disappointment brewing in his chest.

“So? You came out and talked with me a bit,” Gladiolus scratched at his scruffy beard, “That's all I was expectin’."

Ignis frowned,"But..."

"You're _allowed_ to be tired, you know. It's kinda part of being human."

No, Ignis was _not_ allowed to be tired. He wasn't allowed to rest and take breaks like this - if he stopped moving, he would slow down, and there was too much to take care of for Ignis to be getting sluggish now.

"I'm gonna stay out here for a bit,” the other man kicked his feet up on the stone edge of the heater, as if to prove his point, “Get some sleep when you get home, 'kay?"

Ignis rubbed his neck and stood up, scooping both of their empty bottles up from the table.

“Enjoy the rest of your night, Gladiolus."

Ignis ignored the sense of disappointment that lingered in the back of his mind. He felt colder with every step towards the door he took, and not because of the growing distance between himself and the heater.

 

* * *

 

 

Ignis’s legs had been replaced with bags of sand.

It was the only explanation he could conjure up for why his feet felt as if they each weighed fifty pounds, forcing him to move like molasses across the empty bar floor that still shimmered in places where the mop water hadn’t yet fully dried.

He ran a dry, cracked hand through his hair as he stepped through the front door with Camelia, Loqi, and Cindy. Messy bangs, no longer held up by gel after eighteen hours of work, flopped right back to where they hung in front of his eyes, rendering the motion all but useless.

He wasn’t really sure what parting words he offered to his coworkers. He didn’t care, honestly.

He just wanted to get home to his baby; no matter how many times he held him, Ignis never found himself used to how at ease it put him to simply _hold_ his son.

Even on the days when bills were amounting to more than what he had in the bank, and when fifteen-plus hour work days had his mental state in a complete mess, just feeling Noctis’s little heartbeat against his was enough to quell the anxiety that never seemed to be too far away.

Robotically, Ignis waved at the bartender that had manned the back bar for the evening before separating from the rest of the motley crew in the direction of his usual parking spot. The narrow road the bar was located on was smack dab in the middle of a residential district, so there were no parking lots available. As a result, Ignis usually parked half a mile into the residential area to keep the closer stalls open to customers. It wasn’t too shady of a neighborhood, so he wasn’t too concerned with walking so far on his own.

Until an enormous figure stepped out of the shadows.

Like a character out of Saved by the Bell, Ignis froze mid-stride.

 _Unlike_ a character from Saved by the Bell, however, he didn’t have Mark-Paul Gosselaar cheekily narrating over the frame.

“Hey, you,” Gladiolus greeted, swaying slightly.

Ignis stared.

"I’m just gonna cut to the chase – I liked talkin' to you and was hopin’ to get your number so I can call you sometime.”

Ignis steadied his stance, but was sure to not make his body language resemble anything inviting. “You loitered out here until three in the morning, in thirty-degree weather… To get my phone number?”

Gladiolus grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, I know it’s kinda weird to wait around for an hour, when it’s cold as fuckin’ piss,” he admitted, “But I just wanted to see you again.”

Ignis frowned, both at the dedication towards the sentiment and at his vulgar language. He had closed out his tab at around midnight but, looking closer, he could see that his eyes were glassy.

Gladiolus had been drinking.

“If you wanted to see me so badly, surely it would have been easier for you to visit me at work on any other day,” he suggested, rearranging the keys in his hand so that one was held between each finger.

That earned him something of a pout. “I dunno your schedule at the coffee place, and I couldn’t wait ‘till next week to see you here.”

Gladiolus took a step forward.

Ignis took one back

He looked for the police car that usually lurked on the road median, in case of any hooligans that may get into a fight outside one of the four bars on this road, but it appeared that the officer had left to patrol other areas.

Ignis’s stomach clenched.

He was _alone_.

If Ignis gave him his phone number, would he go away?

The idea of giving away personal information make him squeamish, though – could he give him a fake number?

No – Gladiolus knew where he worked.

If he gave him a fake number, he could just track Ignis down and… _Retaliate_.

Just hand over the number and get going. That was all he had to do. Ignis didn’t answer calls from unknown numbers, anyways, so he wasn’t obligated to answer the phone over the next few days and would have a good excuse for it.

Did it cost money to change his number?

Would it be too obvious if he blocked Gladiolus’s?

“Here.” He pulled up his phone’s text messaging and popped open a new message, “Enter your number.”

The other man’s expression lit up like a _Christmas tree_ , “ _Whoa_ , really?!”

Ignis squinted at him as he eagerly took the cell phone that was held out to him. Did he seem the type to yank someone’s chain over a phone number?

Besides, if he got lucky, Gladiolus would be too drunk to type his number properly, and Ignis could use that as an excuse, later.

Oh, wait, he could just change the number and say that he entered the number wrong -!

Gladiolus handed the phone back, still grinning proudly.

“There! I just shot a text to my phone,” he announced.

Mother _fucker_!

“Sooo I’ll call you?”

Ignis savagely bit down on the inside of his cheek to suppress the jumble of profanity that he wanted to spew, in a show of how totally _not_ okay he was with his plan being ruined.

“It shall be nineteen years if it will be a day,” he ground out.

Gladiolus’s expression blanked. “What?”

Not a Trollope fan, it seemed. That, or Ignis butchered the line.

“I have to get home,” Ignis said, “Are you well enough to drive?”

He would rather just change the subject and get going; if he had to wait a second longer than he had to get home, he would throw a fucking _fit_.

Gladiolus shook his head and pulled his own phone from his pocket, probably to call an Uber. “Didn’t drive.”

“Right, well…” Phone in hand, he stepped around Gladiolus as if he were some kind of diseased animal. “Have a good night. Be safe getting home.”

He hardly waited for a response. As soon as Ignis rounded the side of the building, and vanished from Gladiolus’s line of sight, he sprinted to the entire way to his car.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, figuring out what scenes to add, and what to leave out, has kind of been hell. There are cute father-daughter moments scattered throughout the VN, and I hate cutting anything out D: But there were a few ways to go about everything in the last chapter, so I can't add EVERYTHING without it not making any sense. Anyways.
> 
> I also don't really know what I'm gonna do, regarding implementing what's already written. I mean. I can't translate the WHOLE game into a fic, because... I mean. It's a commercial title. We would like to sell it, at some point. But I also don't want to have to orphan this, because of it.
> 
> Chapters from here on out are gonna be shorter than the first, because a looot of tiny mistakes made it through. And that shit don't fly. So I'm gonna keep them around the 5k mark to make sure it's a little better. I have no beta, so.

“Peter was most dreadfully frightened; he rushed all over the garden, for he had forgotten the way back to the gate…”

Ignis waited for Noctis to press his palm against the page to clumsily push the page to the side.

“No, darling, hold it like this.” He pinched the corner of the glossy sheet, carefully turning it to the other side of the book to reveal the next page. “You have to be gentle or you will tear the book.”

Noctis didn’t seem to care; he jammed his finger over Peter Rabbit’s inky black eye and craned his neck to glare at his father expectantly, who released a resigned sigh.

“He lost one of his shoes among the cabbages, and the othis shoe amongst the potatoes. After losing them, he ran on – _Noctis_ …”

Noctis had turned the page before he could finish the sentence

Alright, then.

“Mister McGregor came up with a sieve –“

Noctis turned the page again with a giggle.

“Noct, daddy is trying to read you a story, he tutted, “Do you not wish to learn what happens?”

Noctis’s only response was to giggle and turn the page, albeit a little more carefully this time. Another page was turned, then another, until Ignis was convinced that there was no use in trying to finish the story; Noctis was making it very clear that he had no intention of hearing The Tale of Peter Rabbit.

With a huff, Ignis closed the book and set it down on the small pile next to them.

“Is there something else my prince would like to have read to him, if Peter Rabbit’s legend does not tickle your fancy?” he asked, sarcasm coloring his voice.

Rolling around in his lap so that he was sprawled out on his belly, Noctis dug his chin into the skin over his sternum with a cheeky grin and responded, “No.”

“You know, this was _your_ idea,” Ignis reminded, “ _You_ wanted to read.”

Noctis buried his face in his chest, tiny fists gripping the fabric of his t-shirt. He tried to tell him something, but it was mostly muffled into incoherent blobs of sound.

“Look at me when you are speaking.”

Another round of muted syllables.

“Noctis, _look_ at me when you are speaking. Daddy cannot hear you when you look down.”

Finally, Noctis peeled his face away from his shirt, “I’m hungy, daddy.”

Ignis checked the wall clock for the time. Ten forty-five was a bit early for lunch…

But when did he ever deny his prince anything?

“What do you want to eat?”

Noctis’s response was immediate, “Booby toast!”

Ignis felt every ounce of blood fill his cheeks when Noctis’s proud request earned him a disapproving stare from a nearby mother.

“Um… What? You want toast?”

His grin widened, splitting across his face and bunching his little fat cheeks up, “I want booby toast, daddy!”

_Oh, Astrals preserve me._

Ignis stiffly brushed his bangs from his face as his mind raced to translate “booby toast” into an actual meal he had served his in the past. Sometimes, depending on where they were located in a word, Noctis struggled with Ls and Rs so it was common for his to shorten “blue” to “boo,” but where was the “bee” coming from..?

Blue toast? When had he ever made _blue toast?_

“Here, let us try this…”

He reached into his diaper-turned-whatever-the-heck-he-needed-bag for a coloring book, and small ten-count box of crayons, something that was fuck-all difficult with a toddler strewn across his lap.

It was one of those coloring books with tracing sheets in them to help kids with their hand-eye coordination – a happy medium for a parent raising a child that sometimes insisted that black linework was boring.

Ignis set the book on the colorful rug next to them with one hand, dumping the crayons out over the blank sheet. A couple of them rolled out of reach, earning him another glare from the oh-so perfect mother in the opposite corner.

“Show daddy what you would like to eat for lunch,” Ignis offered, “Draw it for me.”

Ever the passionate artist, Noctis required no further encouragement. He quickly clambered out of Ignis’s lap to roll onto his belly, reaching for the brown crayon.

Ignis watched with a silent fondness as his mouth set into a familiar line as he slowly drew out the outline of the bread. The tip of his finger traced the muscle groups in his back as he worked with an unmatched diligence to create whatever mystery dish he wanted for his lunch.

When he was finished, Noctis dropped the purple crayon and tugged on Ignis’s shirt sleeve to pull himself into a sitting position.

Oh – _oooohhh_.

“You want blueberry French toast for lunch?”

Ignis had made it a couple of times in the past, but he hadn’t the faintest idea that Noctis had even remembered it. It was just French toast with a blueberry reduction poured over it, as opposed to traditional syrup, to shoehorn _some_ vitamins into what was otherwise nutritionally empty breakfast.

Noctis _beamed_ , though Ignis wasn’t sure if it was because he was proud of his drawing, or excited for food.

“I want booby toast!” he repeated, much more animatedly than last time now that his father understood him.

Okay, _that_ was going to have to stop.

“Noctis, you know how to say blueberry. You point them out to me every time we are at the grocery store.”

Well, it came out a little muddled, but it still counted.

Noctis looked confused, though. He grabbed the page he had drawn the food on, half-picking it up from the floor, to present it to Ignis.

“What goes on the toast?” Ignis pointed to the smear of purple on top of the drawing of toast, “What do you call this?”

Noctis frowned. Maybe he didn’t recognize it in a sauce form? He picked up the blue crayon and nudged Noctis’s hand to coax his into putting the coloring book on the floor so he could draw a couple of circles on top of the sauce.

“This is blueberry sauce. You like blueberries, don’t you?”

Noctis nodded, eyes trained on the book. “I like bllllooberrhies.”

Ignis moved the crayon to point at the toast.

“This is French toast. The blueberry sauce goes on the French toast. Can you say that?”

Noctis’s frown deepened as he made an unsure sound behind closed lips.

“Say it with me, darling,” Ignis coaxed, “Frreeennnch toooast.”

“F-fwhuh…” Noctis’s voice was breathy, unsure, as he attempted to follow his father’s example, “Fh…”

There was a quiet click of his teeth as his jaw snapped shut, lips pressed tight together. Ignis smoothed his hand over his hair, tucking a stray lock behind his ear.

“You can do it, Noct. Tell daddy what kind of toast the blueberry sauce goes on.”

Noctis bit his lip, tiny hands clenched into fists. “Bllloobrrhy sawse…”

“Yes, that’s it!” Ignis tried his best to keep his tone as encouraging as he could manage, “Where does the blueberry sauce go?”

“Fwheh… Fhwen… Fuh…”

A thin whine streamed from Noctis’s mouth, which clamped shut again when he realized he couldn’t make the exact sound that Ignis was asking for.

One hand came up to clutch the hem of his shirt while the other patted the picture he had drawn, right over the slab of brown. The toddler’s shoulders bounced twice as he rapidly sucked in air - a telltale sign of impending tears.

“No, no, Noctis – it’s okay! Daddy has trouble with that word, too.” Ignis twisted around where he was sitting to scooch close enough to wrap his arm around his when Noctis hiccupped. “You were really close! I am so proud of you, baby, you were _so_ close.”

His words fell on deaf ears. Noctis’s shoulders heaved with the first couple of sobs, to which Ignis responded to by brushing his hair back in a desperate attempt at soothing him.

He felt like such a piece of shit.

Noctis was doing so well, but he kept pushing his out of his comfort zone like one of those jackass parents on a toddler pageant show. Of _course_ he wouldn’t be able to say a word like “French” – he wasn’t even _two!_

“We will figure it out later. Alright, Noctis?” he kissed the top of his head, “You and daddy will learn it together. Please, don’t cry – daddy is so proud of you for trying such a hard word for him.”

The next few minutes were spent with Ignis pulling Noctis into his lap and whispering similar words of encouragement between kisses he placed to his hair. Ignis _hated_ when he cried – _especially_ when it was because of something he had done, or because of something he could have helped his avoid.

It made him feel so _useless_.

By the time it took for Noctis to stop crying, he, himself, felt like he was on the verge of tears.

All but immune to the gross factor that was cleaning up his son’s bodily fluids, Ignis used the back of his hand to wipe away Noctis’s tears and the trail of snot that ran into his mouth, rubbing it onto his jeans.

Once they were both calmed down, after a few minutes of sitting together in silent recovery, he took a deep breath to center himself and ignored the venomous stare from the mother.

 “Are you ready to go?”

Noctis nodded, wiping at the last of the tears clinging to his lashes with his fist.

 “Okay, then help daddy clean up so we can go home and have blueberry toast for lunch.”

With a final sniff, Noctis picked himself up from Ignis’s lap.

It was by sheer luck that he landed a kid that found cleaning and household chores more entertaining than cartoons, even if it meant Noctis would cram the crayons in at all of the wrong angles, breaking two of them.

So, thanks to that, picking up what small mess they had made together took little more than a minute. In no time, his coloring book, now-lumpy box of crayons, and travel blankie were neatly tucked away into Ignis’s bag.

With the library books in one hand, Ignis waited until he felt Noctis’s palm slide into his before guiding his out of the children’s section.

They had just finished checking out their books for the week when a familiar voice called his name.

Ignis turned around to see Gladiolus standing just a few feet away on the opposite side of the counter, a stack of burgundy and brown books under one arm.

He stiffened, holding Noctis’s hand a little tighter.

_No._

No, no, _nonononono_ -

“Good afternoon, Gladiolus.”

He didn’t mean for his tone to be as unwelcoming as it was (he did), but Ignis found it difficult to speak amicably around the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach.

Gladiolus must not have been drinking, as he clearly picked up on Ignis’s discomfort and made no attempt to approach him, this time.

“You busy?” he asked, the confidence from their earlier encounters no longer present in his voice.

“I am about to take Noctis home for lunch but, otherwise, no I am in no rush,” he answered honestly.

Gladiolus’s strikingly warm eyes dropped to the toddler that was now hiding behind Ignis’s black-clad leg. “That your son?”

“I am babysitting for a friend.”

The instinct to lie was so natural to Ignis that it rolled off of his tongue without it even being a conscious effort. He had told the lie so many times that, by this point, he could probably convince _himself_ that Noctis belonged to Nyx.

Gladiolus either believed him, or didn’t care to contest the claim. He nodded, eyes downcast, and stayed silent for another moment.

“Look… I’m really sorry about the other night,” he apologized, readjusting the books under his arms, “I didn’t mean to corner you like that – it’s just – I was excited to meet you, and drank a bit after you went back in, and got way ahead of myself, and I feel like a piece of shit because of it.”

A beat.

“You deserve way more respect than that,” he tacked on.

“It is alright.”

Ignis’s voice was soft, which was not entirely convincing; he knew he sounded more cautious than he did forgiving.

Gladiolus shook his head, still refusing to meet his gaze. “No, it’s not. If someone had done that to my sister, I would’ve told her that she should’ve called for help. I just –“

Gladiolus released a shaky sigh and brought his gaze up to meet Ignis’s.

“I already deleted your number, so you don’t have to worry about me calling you, so…” he sighed, “I just want you to know that I _am_ sorry. That’s not the kinda guy I am.”

In any other situation, Ignis would have written the claim off and moved on with his day. All alcohol did was remove his inhibitions and uncover the kind of person he would be, if society didn’t tell him to act a certain way – or, that was how Ignis had taught himself to think.

However, watching at Gladiolus, seeing the genuine regret weighing down on his broad shoulders, hearing the sincerity in his voice…

Dammit.

“I believe you, Gladiolus.”

Gladiolus’s eyes, which had dropped down to the floor again, flitted back up, searching his face. “You do?”

Well, he wasn’t about to hand over his phone number, again – that was for damn sure - and he wasn’t, by any means, _forgiving_ him, but… Yes.

There was something about Gladiolus, not just his demeanor, that made Ignis feel like he was being honest in that moment.

“I need to get him home,” he reminded him, feeling Noctis bury his face into the side of his butt to hide.

Ignis hesitated for a moment.

“Have… A pleasant night.”

The hulking man nodded, and took a step back, as if to signal that he was releasing him. “Right, yeah, sorry for keeping you.”

Ignis wasted no time in about facing for the door.

Noctis’s short legs kept him from bolting to the car this time, but he kept his pace brisk enough for his to complain and tug on his hand.

* * *

 

The next time Ignis saw Gladiolus, it was, unsurprisingly, during one of his shifts at the coffee shop.

"How many times do I have to explain this to you?!"

Ignis liked to think that raising a child on his own would has made him into a patient man, but he was one fraying nerve away from braining this lady with the stainless steel mixing cup he was rinsing out.

“Here, let me _show_ you.” The customer reached over the counter to grab a store cup, then produced a permanent marker from a white leather purse that could have paid Ignis’s bills for an entire month.

“I want the milk filled to here –“ She actually _marked_ a ridge on the _inside_ of the cup!

_What the hell?!_

“The ice is to be filled up to here-“ Another dash, “And the rest to be filled to _here-_ “

Ignis could only watch in astonishment as the cup was handed back to Nyx, who looked every bit as flabbergasted as he did.

“Don’t mix the mocha sauce and the expresso, and I want the hazelnut shots on _top_!” the woman continue, her voice shrill and piercing, “Is that so difficult to ask for?”

When Nyx reached for a different cup, the insufferable wench’s eyes practically bulged out of her head as if she were Judge Doom.

“ _No_ , use the cup that I gave you so that you get it _right!_ ”

Nyx stared at her, unsure of what to do, with his hand still hovering over the stack of clear plastic cups. “I can’t,” he said, cautiously, “Health codes don’t –“

“I don’t care about health codes,” she snapped, “I care about getting out of here in the next _hour_!”

Ignis took a long, slow breath, before gently pushing the mixing cup in Nyx’s free hand to trade him for the marked coffee cup.

It was probably because every single being in the store would look for any reason to not have to interact with the customer, but he took the hint and let himself tap out of the relay.

“Ma’am, if we use what you have marked, the milk and agitation from the ice will result in the marker mixing into your beverage,” he explained, unsure of where that calmness in his voice was coming from, “I will use your cup as a guide, but no respectable barista would serve you a product that may contain trace amounts of carcinogens.”

“It’s a permanent marker!” she shrieked, “It’s _permanent_! It’s not going to _wash off_!”

Ignis sighed, and used his middle finger (a total accident, he swears) to push his glasses back up from where they’d slid down his nose.

“Because this is a needless waste of a cup, this inconveniences our business, and the environment, just as much as you feel it inconveniences you,” his words were cool, and restrained, despite his earlier fantasy of giving her a concussion with the mixing cup, “Please do not make this into a bigger issue than it needs to be, ma’am. If your coffee is not to your liking after a fourth attempt, then I will take your receipt and issue you a refund.”

It was only after her buggy eyes returned to a less frightening angry squinting, and an angry huff, that the customer finally acquiesced.

Ignis could actually _feel_ every other person in the room sigh a breath of relief.

He made a show of referring back to the woman’s marked cup every few seconds, once even going so far as to hold the new one up to it for visual comparison. It wasn’t as if Ignis was actually paying _real_ attention, though. All Nyx did was mess up the milk ratio – there was no doubt in his mind that he could mix the mocha sauce into the espresso, and she wouldn’t have so much as a _clue_.

When he slid the beverage across the counter, the wretched harpy didn’t so much as take a proper sip before huffing and rolling her eyes.

“Whatever.”

The faint whisper of some rather crude words could be heard from the sink.

“At least wait until she’s out of the store, dumbass,” Aranea hissed.

“You really _want_ her comin’ back?”

Swiping a shiny black credit card through the built-in reader, Aranea rolled her eyes and finished ringing the current customer up. “Do you have a rewards card with us? We’re currently running a special on…”

Ignis plucked a small cup made for espresso orders up from the counter, noting how a rather long line had formed due to Nyx – who moved slowly, as it was – having to make the same drink three times in a row.

Thankfully, this order was just an espresso con panna. Easy peasy.

“Nyx, that cup is clean,” without looking at him, he waved his hand to usher him over, “Help me with the line.”

“Who d’you think you are? My manager?”

A friendly bump against his shoulder froze every one of Ignis’s muscles for all of a second.

The next order was a blended frappe, and he wasn’t as much of a slacker as Aranea gave him hell for, so Nyx had already turned his back to him by the time Ignis had taken an evasive step to the side.

Nyx… Did not understand the concept of personal space.

Three cappuccinos, two lattes, and a macchiato later, Ignis was pleased to find the final cup resting on the counter.

The small rush wasn’t more than their small crew of three could handle, but Ignis’s back was beginning to ache unpleasantly from having to bend over so many times for different kinds of milks from the fridge tucked below the bar. It didn’t help that Nyx had an obsession with putting _everything_ away as _soon_ as anyone was finished with them so, even if two drinks required the same type of milk, Ignis had to keep opening the refrigerator when he shouldn’t have to.

It was only by the grace of the coffee gods that the final order – for now – was a plain dark roast coffee. Once he had slid the cup over the counter, and into the hand of its owner, he looked up to see who was next in line –

Of _course_ he wouldn’t just vanish. A person didn’t simply _cease to exist_ because you had an unpleasant experience with them, and no longer wished to see them.

Though, it would have been nice if he at least had the courtesy to not keep showing up at his workplace, where he couldn’t run for the hills.

Their gazes caught for a split second. Gladiolus’s face betrayed his surprise before he cut his eyes to the menu, so maybe he hadn’t been expecting Ignis to be working, tonight? It wasn’t that difficult to imagine, given that it was Sunday and Ignis _should_ have been at Park Lounge, tonight. If Camelia didn’t cut his hours to just Friday and Saturday, the stingy old crow -

“Good evening!” Aranea greeted, faux chipper demeanor in full force, “What can I get you?”

Out of the corner of his eye, while he wiped a wet rag over the steam wand, Ignis saw Gladiolus risk another glance at him, though he pretended not to notice. He listened to his order, grabbing a medium-sized cup for hot beverages, and scrawling the instructions on the side with a marker produced from his apron pocket.

Café au lait - so incorrectly mispronounced that it was kind of cute - with almond milk. Not really Ignis’s top choice - almond milk made everything taste weird, and he was more of an espresso kind of guy - but at least it wasn’t another blended frappe. A group of highschoolers had come in, just an hour earlier, and ordered about ten of the damn things. Ignis was surprised he didn’t crack a tooth, grinding his teeth together while Piers happily warmed their cream cheese muffins and coffee cakes.

Gladiolus waited wordlessly by the pickup counter while Ignis steamed the milk.

He was wrapped up in something on his phone, paying little attention to what Ignis was up to (honestly, he probably could have doused him with his own drink, and Ignis wasn’t quite sure Gladiolus would notice), so he snuck a couple of peeks every few seconds.

Without his chipper demeanor, and in less forgiving light, he could kind of point out the telltale signs of aging that he had missed, before. There were fine lines creasing around his eyes, and a few grey hairs here and there. Most of it was nearly indiscernible, only _really_ visible when you took the time to seek them out, but it was there.

“Café au lait with almond milk,” he announced as he slid the cup over the counter, failing at bringing himself to turn his attention elsewhere, straightaway.

“Thanks.”

Gladiolus lingered, as well.

Ignis’s eyes flicked up to quickly scan the store, satisfied to see that there were no further customers waiting for their orders. The two other non-employees on the floor were two regulars: a mother and daughter who met every Sunday for coffee and a shared slice of cake. They were both tucked away in their corner, smiling over pictures of the daughters newborn son, and Aranea and Nyx had both suspiciously disappeared to the backroom.

In other words: they were more or less alone.

“Would you -”

“Ignis-”

They both froze.

“Uh, you can go first,” Gladiolus offered, shuffling his feet a little.

Ignis shook his head, staring down at his hands, which were folded on the stone counter. “I was only going to ask if you would like to take a seat.”

Gladiolus looked pensive. The usual smile, accompanied with eyes glittering with mirth, was no longer present, having been replaced by a hesitant frown.

“I would, yeah.”

Ignis picked up the cappuccino Aranea had made him earlier (read: forced on him, because “pulling a triple shift without something to keep you going is fucking stupid”), and met him at a table that was closer to the front, this time.

Gladiolus seemed to be even somewhat relieved that he wasn’t being thrown out on his ass, but a shadow was still cast over his normally jubilous expression.

Ignis kind of hated that.

“I just wanted to apologize,” he admitted gruffly, “Again. For what happened. We were having a good time, and I ruined it by acting like a fuckin’ _predator_.” He rubbed a paw-like palm over his face, regret making him look even older, “Probably scared the shit outta you, cornering you like that.”

Ignis shifted, uncomfortable, and rubbed his thumb over the warm cup.

“You _did_ scare me. But…”

Ignis hooked his lip under his teeth.

“I am… I’m glad that you are here.”

“Yeah?”

Gladiolus’s tone shifted, if only infinitesimally, into something lighter, at that, and Ignis responded by peeling his eyes away from his beverage to look at his face.

He was still too nervous, or shy, or _whatever_ , to actually meet his gaze, but… He was trying.

“I wanted to see you. Because… We… I did enjoy myself, when we were talking. Even if it was short-lived.”

Even if his heart was racing wildly in his chest, ramming into his ribcage like a jackhammer while his brain sent all kinds of fight-or-flight signals to the rest of his body.

The other nodded, as if agreeing, but his body language was still closed off. Probably thought Ignis was still ready to ask him to leave. “I wanted to see you, too, Ignis. That’s not why I’m here, though. I thought you’d be at the bar.”

“I believe you.” For some reason.

Silence soon followed, and the two awkwardly danced around eye contact while waiting for the other to speak up.

“So… What have you been up to?” Ignis offered, hoping to get some kind of conversation rolling.

For some reason.

Gladiolus eased up, a little, and leaned back in his seat, hands still folded around his coffee cup.

“Been watching some crime show that my buddy got me into. Something about a bone-specialist solving murders.” He made a face. “It’s kinda boring, though.”

Ignis scrunched his nose, raising an eyebrow.

“I would imagine so. Bones is hardly the crème de la crème of crime procedural dramas.”

“Yeah? And what would that be?”

“Criminal Minds. It is about the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, and it is spectacular.”

 _Finally_ , Gladiolus’s grin returned.

“Uh-huh. That what you do in your downtime, then? Watch cheesy crime shows?”

Ignis scowled as best as he could, with his lips trying to twitch upwards, and huffed at the baiting jab as he took a sip of his cappuccino.

“If that is a challenge, do _not_ think I won’t force you to sit through every episode of my favorite television shows,” he threatened, “Because I most certainly will.”

“That so?” Gladiolus shot back, the humor in his voice filling the air around them, “What if I think it totally sucks?”

“If that turns out to be the case, I am not above performing some form of respondent conditioning to right the situation.”

Gladiolus’s shoulders bounced with his laugh, and Ignis’s stomach fluttered at the sight. “What, you gonna turn me into one of Pavlov’s dogs?”

This time, Ignis allowed himself to mirror his smile with his own shy one.

“If that is what it takes for you to see the light.”

It wasn’t _all_ better, there was still some of that heaviness lingering on the fringes of their conversation, but Ignis was more than pleased at how the atmosphere around them had changed into something lighter.

It still looked like Gladiolus was feeling a little antsy, and Ignis wished that he could wipe it away, but he knew that it was something that could only be remedied by time.

“How is your sister? You said she attends school here, correct?”

At the mention of his sister, Gladiolus perked up. “Yeah, Iris’s definitely the smart one of the bunch. She’s workin’ on her masters in Biomedical Engineering at IU.”

Oh, goodness, she must be quite intelligent, then. Getting into Insomnia University was difficult, as it was, but a spot in the ivy league school’s masters and doctorate programs were nigh impossible to acquire. Either their family had _very_ strong connections, or this Iris girl was one hell of a student.

Gladiolus’s visage softened into something fond, and kind, as he continued, “Kid’s been through alot, and she almost gave up a couple times. I’m so fuckin’ proud of her for sticking to her guns.”

Something wistful twisted in Ignis’s chest.

“What about you? You got any brothers or sisters?”

Ignis shook his head, and dropped his attention down to his drink.

“My only family are my parents, and my uncle. I haven’t spoken with them in quite some time, though.”

“That… Sucks. Mind me askin’ why?"

Ignis drummed his fingers on the table before taking his cup in his hand to still them.

Gladiolus must have interpreted the worst from his silence, because his entire face blanched, “Oh, fuck, they’re not _dead_ , are they?”

A surprised, anxious laugh tore up Ignis’s throat, and he all but gaped at the man sitting across from him. “ _Heavens_ , no!”

“Oh, fuck, thank _Ramuh_.” Relief washed over Gladiolus’s tense expression, and he placed a hand over his chest with a gusty sigh. “I was about to feel like a real piece of ass for bringing it up.”

Ignis snorted delicately into his wrist, shaking his head.

“No, I promise you it is nothing so dramatic,” he assured him, “I merely had a falling out with my parents, and my uncle was… Unwilling to lend assistance, at the time. I have not heard from them, since then.”

Admittedly, Ignis did not try very hard at all to reach out to him, but that was neither here nor there.

Thankfully, Gladiolus didn’t seem agog to pressing for details, because Ignis did not want to jump down that rabbit hole, and was quick to change the subject.

“How’s that little boy doin’? The one you were babysitting?”

“Noctis? He’s quite fine - he has recently made it his life’s mission to teach his stuffed carbuncle how to color, so I have found myself with an excess of toddler drawings.”

“That’s fuckin’ adorable, Ignis,” Gladiolus’s quiet smile returned, “He one of those artsy-fartsy kids?”

Ignis felt his own mood brighten, now that he had a chance to gush about his son.

“If that child does not attend an art school, in the future, I will eat my hat.”

“That good, huh?”

“Yes, and I am not biased at all.” Ignis took a sip of his drink, grinning coyly around the lip.

Gladioulus laughed, “I mean, as long as you’re not _biased_.”

Ignis shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

They smiled at each other for a long moment, even as Aranea emerged from the back room to check on them, and Ignis found himself starting to lean forward, one hand holding his chin while the other traced circles into the wood.

“Have you ever considered children?”

Gladiolus’s brows jumped to his hairline, but there was a telling curve of his grin and a glint in his eye. “Jumpin’ straight into the big questions?”

He offered a noncommittal shrug. “Well, you know what they say: fortune favors the bold.”

“Who the hell says that?” Gladiolus scoffed.

Ignis raised an eyebrow. “Are you going to make me explain a Latin proverb as a means to avoid the question?”

“Are you being a smartass to throw me off my game?”

Ignis pouted.

“ _Smartass?_ And here I was hoping that my literary references would be enticing.”

Gladiolus’s laugh was soft.

“Yeah, I’ve wanted kids of my own since I was in my early twenties,” he said, that growly voice of his low enough to sound like a purr, “I always kinda imagined I’d have the same kind of big, happy family I grew up with.”

His smile slipped a little, and Ignis could tell that he was trying to hide it behind his coffee when he brought it to his lips.

“Kinda gettin’ a bit old for that, though.”

An urge to comfort him took precedence over his innate need to keep a distance between them, and Ignis reached across the table to brush his fingertips over his scarred knuckles.

“Thirty-six is hardly _old_ , Gladiolus.”

Their gazes met, and Ignis let himself get lost in the moment, even when Gladiolus’s fingers nudged back into his.

 “Yeah, but being thirty-six, without having found someone to settle down with, isn’t makin’ things look too promising.”

“Do you _need_ a spouse to start your family?” he asked, genuinely curious to hear his answer.

Gladiolus’s cheek twitched, and Ignis wondered if he was pressing too hard.

 “Maybe not, but being a single dad… That’s tough.”

 “It is,” Ignis agreed, “It is _unimaginably_ difficult. But, it can also be an unimaginably _rewarding_ experience.”

A life without Noctis, Ignis had decided, was simply not one worth living. He could not imagine finding happiness in anything other than raising him, as full of hardships as the journey has been.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, though, Ignis realized his slip-up.

Gladiolus must have picked up on it, too, because _something_ changed in his expression that was making Ignis wholly uncomfortable.

He sat back in his chair, withdrawing his hand, and grabbed his phone to check the time.

“I am afraid my break is over.”

That seemed to have broken whatever trance Gladiolus had found himself in, just openly staring at Ignis with a million questions written all over his face, because he glanced at Aranea at the counter and kind of jerked back in his seat to stand up,“Yeah, right, totally.”

Ignis followed suit, tucking his phone back into his apron and smoothing out his slacks.

 “I’ll let you get back to it, then.”

Before he could finish his goodbye, Ignis picked up Gladiolus’s coffee to slip the sleeve off of it. He pulled a marker from his pocket to start jotting something down, praying that he wasn’t making a mistake.

“Here.”

Ignis put the sleeve back on the cup, and handed it to him.

Gladiolus’s confusion cleared up once he saw the phone number that had been jotted down, and his smile was the _brightest_ Ignis had seen, so far.

“You sure?”

_No._

“Well, it won’t do us any good to have to restrict our conversations to ten and thirty-minute intervals, now, will it?” Ignis folded his arms over his chest, challenging him silently.

Gladiolus took the bait, still grinning. “Guess not.”

He looked down at the cup, again, then back at Ignis.

“Thanks.”

Ignis waved him off, much too nervous to allow this to continue any further. “Hush. Get out of here. I am embarrassed, now.”

“I’m out the door.” Gladiolus backed towards the door, drink in one hand and his sweater in the other, and waved. “I’ll call you.”

Ignis turned away to hide his smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out to my coffee shop homies. That lady was a real thing that happened to me at Starbucks.  
> [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/friendlysenpai), [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/A78050VD)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignis is brave and schedules a date, Noctis destroys his bedroom, and Gladiolus is just as tactless as ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of short, but I also just updated Chocobros Plus Four so... Yeah. Quantity over quality? Quantity over quantity?
> 
> Tbh I just hate translating this into a normal story format. It's really time consuming >>  
> I wonder if I can find a beta that'll do it for me lol.
> 
> Also I changed the rating because this is an excruciatingly slow burn and sex ain't happening for a loooong time. It's mostly Gladis being a potty mouth. 
> 
> [Twitter](https://www.twitter.com/friendlysenpai), [Ko-Fi](https://ko-fi.com/A78050VD)

_Thump. Thumpthump. Thump._

Ignis's brow furrowed. He paused in writing the check for next month's rent, a small pool of black ink forming where the pen pressed into the thin paper.

_Thumpthumpthumpthump._

He looked over to the door to Noctis's room, which was still half-open. It was pretty normal for him to spend alone time in his room, so it wasn't anything unusual for his to make a little bit of noise while playing pretend, but why did it sound like he was banging on a wall?

"Noct?” Ignis called, “Honey?"

When there was no response, his frown deepened and he pushed himself off of the counter he had been leaning against. Even if he was still relatively new to this whole parenting thing, he knew that the silence of a toddler _typically_ meant that they were doing something they shouldn't be.

When he poked his head around the door,

"Noctis... What, pray tell, have you done to your bedroom?"

Given how blatantly obvious the answer was, it was mostly a rhetorical question.

Varying hues of pinks and blues had been smeared across the wall next to the flimsy easel Ignis had found for free online.

Of course, the pad of paper mounted to it was untouched.

Noctis giggled, looking entirely pleased with himself from where he was sitting before his makeshift mural, paint spackled across his arms and belly. Why he was wearing only his diaper was beyond him.

"I made fowers!" he declared, like he was unveiling the next Mona Lisa.

Flowers? Ignis's eyes drifted away from the budding artist to the smears of color before him. It took a bit of analyzing for him to make any sense of it - the painting was mostly a bunch of blue with pink blobs in the middle, some brown streaks here and there, so it wasn't exactly easy for someone to see past that.

After a few moments, it dawned on Ignis that he had seen this before. But where?

"Noctis, what is this?"

Dissatisfied with being told that his masterpiece was unrecognizable, Noctis huffed and bounced a little.

"Daddy! It's _fowers!_ "

"Where, darling, I understand this,” he assured him, “Where did you _see_ these flowers?"

It wasn't a normal flower painting - there were no defined edges or stems, and several pink dots were disconnected from the fist-sized blots of color that were grouped together in the middle.

Noctis grinned. "At the park!"

What kind of flowers were there at the park..?

Oh - _ohhhh_.

Ignis was looking too closely - it was so _obvious!_

He was looking at the pink dogwood tree he frequently sat under when Noctis was created patterns in the sandbox like some kind of male puffer fish. It was the same tree he used to read to Noctis under when he was still an infant, too small to do more than crawl in the grass next to him and pinch at the petals that had fallen to the ground.

He could see the disembodied clusters of flowers from each branch, some larger than others, to create its distinct dome-like shape. The isolated dots... Were they meant to be individual petals, freed from their branches and carried by the wind?

Did he intentionally spread the blue paint for the sky, thin and pale in some places, in the same direction that the flowers floated away in?

It was marvelously sophisticated for such a small child - completely different from the way he colored the pages of his coloring books.

"I drawed your fower tee for you,” he elaborated, very obviously pleased with himself.

Ignis’s chest swelled with pride, or sheer, unadulterated adoration. Maybe both.

He knelt down next to Noctis and gathered his up in his arms to hold his tight, feeling too much to respond, and pressed his cheek against his feather-soft hair, unable to tear his eyes away from the abstract painting.

"It's beautiful, Noctis. Oh, baby, it's so beautiful."

 _He_ was so beautiful.

"You are so talented, you know that? You are so creative, and intelligent, and so, so perfect, and I love you so much..."

In the back of his mind Ignis knew that he was probably overreacting - thanks to a lack of sleep and mounting stress. Even so, looking at the painting made for him - _him_ \- by his son, of his favorite tree at the park…

This wasn't just some random drawing being passed onto him to show off, it was something Noctis created with _him_ in mind. It made his heart feel as if it were bursting at the seams.

Noctis squirmed, and tried to twist away. "Owie..."

"Oh, sorry -" Ignis released him, who promptly gave him the stink eye for squishing him.

He kissed the top of his head, inhaling deep through his nose to compose himself before he had another chance to get choked up again. Noctis was tired of being cuddled, though, which he made evident by pushing at his chest with paint-covered hands, leaving two pink palm prints on his shirt.

Ignis frowned. It was washable, sure, but this was the _only_ shirt he had that wasn't in need of washing. Looks like he was sporting paint for the day. That aside...

"Hey, hey!" Ignis hooked his finger under the waistband of Noctis's diaper when he tried to rush off to his next adventure, tugging his back."We have to clean this up."

Noctis shook his head and tried to run away, only to be held in place by his diaper.

"Noctis, help daddy clean and then you can go play."

"Don't wanna."

"This is what happens when you use the wall as your canvas. Do you want daddy to get in trouble?"

In hindsight, Ignis _probably_ shouldn't have praised his so much.

As expected, Noctis pouted. "Don't _wanna_ clean..."

"Noctis, you are not getting out of this."

His eyes flitted from his face to the painting, fidgeting.

Why was he hesitating so much? On any other given day, Noctis _jumped_ at the opportunity to assist with household chores.

"Would you like to take a picture of it, first..?"

Noctis nodded. He didn't want the painting to disappear.

How strange…

Noctis normally forgot about his drawings once they were passed off to someone else; Ignis wasn't accustomed to seeing his wanting to hold on to one.

Seems like he wasn't the only one that was putting sentimental value into what someone else would see as a toddler's messy streaks.

Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Ignis readjusted himself so that he was kneeling in front of the painting and opened up the camera.

"Come here. Let's take the picture together."

Noctis shuffled forward into his father's outstretched arm, which instinctively wrapped around his waist. Ignis held the phone up, wiggling it a bit to get it to focus.

"Do you remember how to take a picture like this?" When Noctis shook his head, he continued with, "See the circle? Touch the middle with your finger."

The paint, for the most part, had been rubbed off on Ignis's clothing, so there wasn't much left on his hands that wasn't already dry. Noctis poked the screen, giggling a little when Ignis's phone imitated the click of a camera snapping.

Ignis rubbed his hand over his round belly and kissed his cheek.

"There,” he said, “Now I will have it forever."

Noctis hummed and tapped at the screen for another photo.

“Are you ready to clean up, now?"

A nod.

"Then go get your clean-up basket."

Both of his knees ached in protest when he rose to a standing position after being crouched for so long, and Ignis had to rub around the area to ease some of the pain before following Noctis into the kitchen.

Ugh. He was too young to be feeling all of these aches and pains.

Used to being told to clean his own messes, Noctis had already grabbed his yellow basket from the bottom of the pantry. It mostly contained some sponges, a spray bottle, and mild soap - Ignis was careful to keep any hasher cleaning supplies locked away under the sink.

"Wait, love,” He dropped to a squat in front of Noctis and snatched the pack of baby wipes from his basket, peeling back the adhesive flap and pulling a wipe free. “Let's clean you off, first."

Noctis flinched when it was wiped over a spattering of paint on his thigh.

"Daddy!"

Ignis sucked his teeth, dismayed by his oversight, and coaxed Noctis back to within arm’s reach. “I'm sorry, Noct, here..."

He withdrew his hand and bunched the wet wipe into a ball, holding it to his mouth in an attempt at heating it with his breath.

Lucis's weather reached its coldest in the earliest months of the year, but Ignis struggled with turning on the heat when he could barely make ends meet as it was. Cold seeped through the thin walls and permeated the air in their apartment so, as a result, just about every surface in the two-bedroom unit felt like ice. Ignis had completely forgotten to take Noctis's comfort into consideration before coming after his with what might as well have been a cold pack.

Once it was warmed to his liking, he resumed.

"Is that better?"

Noctis nodded, resigned to his fate of being wiped down.

Given the cold temperature, it would be best if Ignis made sure he was dressed before they cleaned up the paint; the last thing he would want is for his to run around wet and cold.

Speaking of which...

"Noctis, where is your clothing?"

He shrugged, eyes trained on his hand as he folded the towelette in half to wipe his tummy with a clean side.

"You don't know where your clothes are?"

He shook his head, which meant that he most likely got bored and decided to stuff them under his bed again.

Ignis chuckled and shook his head. "You're silly, you know that?"

Noctis giggled and shook his head, hair swaying around his face. "No, _you're_ silly."

" _I'm_ silly? Why am _I_ silly?"

The childish laugh that followed made Ignis snort, grinning ear to ear when Noctis hid his face behind his hands.

"Why are you hiding?"

Noctis dropped his hands and hopped in front of him.

"Peek-a-boo!"

Ignis had to press his fingers to his lips to keep from laughing.

" _What?_ "

Noctis shrieked and bolted for his bedroom - apparently peek-a-boo was now a game of tag.

At the same time, his phone started buzzing in the back of his pocket.

“Noctis, find your clothes before you clean!” Ignis hollered, knowing full well that he would be lucky if his child was even clad in his _diaper_ , next time he saw him.

“No!”

He swiped the screen to answer the call, feeling his heart backflip when he saw the caller ID.

 “Hello?”

  _“Ignis?”_

A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he strode towards Noctis’s room.

 “You sure took your time, didn’t you?” he asked, keeping his tone casual even if his stomach was somersaulting, “I was beginning to think you had forgotten about me.”

Gladiolus released a breathy laugh.

_“Sorry. I didn’t wanna push anything.”_

“You’re almost _too_ considerate –“

He frowned when he saw Noctis wiping a dry sponge over the wall, still clad in only a diaper. Oh, the surprise.

“Noctis…” Ignis sighed, “What on Earth am I going to do with you? Come here, honey.”

  _“Huh?”_

Ignis took the plastic spray bottle from the basket and gestured for Noctis to hand the sponge over so he could get it wet.

I apologize, I am babysitting a toddler that decided that his bedroom wall was destined to become a mural,” he explained, “I’m attempting to show him how to clean it off.”

Having thoroughly soaked the sponge, Ignis sprayed the wall before setting the spray bottle down so he could turn his attention to the small toddler bed tucked into the corner of his room.  
_  
“Is it the same kid as before?”_

 “The very one.”

He dropped forward and stretched his free arm under Noctis’s bed to drag his overalls back into the light of day.

 “He also is under the impression that hiding his clothing underneath his bed means that he won’t have to wear it.”

Gladiolus chuckled warmly.

_“He sounds like a handful. What’s his name, again?”_

“Noctis. He only gets like this when he has been cooped up. Normally I would have taken his out to the park, but there were a number of errands that needed to be taken care of today and I couldn’t find the time.”

  _“You want me to let you go, then? I can call you when you’re not busy?”_

Ignis rolled his eyes. As _if_.

 “I am afraid that he will be in my care for a while longer. His parents regularly leave the country for business trips so, as a result, I take care of his for a week or so at a time.”

_“Wait, for real?”_

 “Is that a problem?”

_“Nah, ‘course not. I just feel bad for him, hearing about his getting put on the backburner like that. Not having parents around fuckin’ sucks.”_

It was a web of lies which _he_ had created, but Ignis couldn’t help but find himself a touch irritated by the idea of someone accusing him of putting Noctis second in his life.

There was another point that had caught Ignis’s attention, however.

 “You speak from experience, I presume?”

  _“Yeah, just not for the same reasons.”_

Something in his tone made it clear that Gladiolus had no intention of elaborating, so Ignis decided a change in topic was in order.

 “So, with that out of the way, how have you been?”

A displeased grunt followed.

_“Wanna know what it’s like to take up extra twenty-four hour shifts ‘cos your coworker’s off on maternity leave?”_

 “What job has you working for twenty-four hours at a time?”

Gladiolus chuckled again.

  _“The firefighting kind.”_

Ah, right. Did… They ever talk about that? This seemed like something Ignis should already know.

 _“The pay’s good but, hell, I’m exhausted,”_ he admitted, _“You’d be amazed at what kinda stupid shit people call nine-one-one for. This lady said a cake he was baking at fuckin’ two in the morning was on fire, but all she wanted was company.”_

 “I can imagine that is quite frustrating,” he agreed, “Does this happen often?”

He tilted the phone away from his face to tell Noctis it was time to rinse out the sponge, now that it was so full of paint that it was doing little more than smear the colors together.

_“Not really. I mean, it happens every now and then when some rando will call because his wife’s being annoying, but that’s the cops’ problem. We mostly just deal with people who turn on their heaters and smell the dust burning off of the unit.”_

Ignis couldn’t stop himself from grinning at the almost exasperated tone Gladiolus’s words carried.

“Working for Insomnia sounds like quite the party.”

 _“Oh, yeah, it’s a real blast,”_ Gladiolus scoffed.

Ignis helped Noctis squeeze the sponge under the faucet until the water ran clear then, after a thought, clicked the child lock open so he could reach under the sink for a small bucket. It was a little plastic thing he had bought when Noctis came down with what was assumed by the doctor to be food poisoning. Today, it would be used for cleaning the sponge out.

 _“What about you?”_ he asked after a few moments of silence had passed _, “You been up to anything good, other than watching the rugrat?”_

“Does doing the rugrat’s laundry count?”

_“Hell no.”_

Ignis snorted at how scandalized he sounded at even the _thought_ of considering laundry a pastime.

It wasn’t as if he blamed Gladiolus – folding his underwear was hardly a riveting experience. But, when all of your time was sunk into work, childcare, and maintaining a household, there was little left for recreational activities.

“Then I am afraid that I have nothing to report.”

_“Lemme guess, you’re the type of guy that works his ass off and never makes time for himself.”_

Any trace of a smile vanished from Ignis’s face before Gladiolus had completed his sentence.

Frozen, he hovered over the sink with one hand still on the water-stained faucet.

“I make plenty of time for myself.”

_“Do you?”_

It didn’t feel so much an accusation as it did a question bred from sincere concern, but that didn’t stop Ignis from combatively responding with,

“Of course I do,” he insisted, “I merely have had little spare time with Noctis around. Bills and household responsibilities do not take care of themselves, as I am sure you are aware.”

_“True, but you know what they say about all work and no play.”_

“I would prefer being dull over having a constant shortage of clean dishes.”

“ _I was thinkin’ more along the lines of you tryin’ to slaughter your family.”_

Ignis rolled his eyes and pulled the half-full bucket from the sink.“I can assure you that I will be much too exhausted to attempt anything so physically demanding.”

Gladiolus’s laugh, he was coming to find, was irritatingly infectious. As his low, throaty laugh rumbled over the call, Ignis felt himself grinning.

He set the bucket down next to Noctis and, as an afterthought, returned to the bathroom for a towel to lay down before Noctis had a chance to tie-dye his carpet.

“ _Well, at least there’s an upside to being a stick in the mud.”_

Um, _excuse_ you.

“I am not a stick in the mud.”

“ _You sure? You just said you were dull,”_ Gladiolus shot back, clearly amused by the conversation’s turn, “ _So, what do you do when you’re not babysitting?”_

“I enjoy playing piano, especially Chopin’s works.”

Did it count as a lie if it _used_ to be a hobby?

Piano was something that Ignis had spent an incalculable amount of time playing, especially when he was in high school and had his mother on the bench next to him.

What he wouldn’t do to be able to teach Noctis how to lose himself in a world of concertos…

But that was behind him, now. Ignis had no plans to so much as come near an instrument for a very, very long time.

_“Really? Hey, is it true that guitar and piano are basically the same to play?”_

Ignis shoved away the ache of longing in his chest and lifted the half-filled bucket from the sink, thankful that Gladiolus’s next train of thought wasn’t to delve too deep into how he spends his time.

“I would hardly say that they are the _same_ – you might as well be comparing an EMT to a paramedic,” Ignis tried not to sound too put off by the idea, “A background in piano simply makes it easier to pick up other instruments. Several famous drummers are also skilled pianists, as well.”

_“You know, I actually called a paramedic an EMT once. I thought he was gonna rip my head off and shit down my neck.”_

Grimacing, Ignis set the bucket on the floor next to Noctis and returned to the bathroom for a towel, just in case.

“Has anyone pointed out to you of just how often you swear?”

Gladiolus laughed. “ _It’s a shitty habit I picked up when I was in high school. Does it bug you?”_

“Noctis, rinse the sponge out in this.”

He took the sponge from his and gave it a good squeeze in the bucket of water to remove most of the paint.

_“Still cleaning up paint?”_

“The process is slowed by the fact that I am making a child do it.”

_“How old is she?”_

“Twenty months.”

_“Oh, wow, that’s tiny. And he cleans after himself?”_

Ignis sighed and leaned back, watching Noctis drip water all over the towel he had laid down when he clumsily dunked the sponge into the bucket. Oh well, at least this place didn’t demand a security deposit when he moved in. If any paint seeped through and caused a stain, it wouldn’t be as if the landlord could differentiate it from the hundreds of other stains that had already been there.

“He enjoys helping out around the house, where he can,” he confirmed, “And will also help with drying dishes, and putting away laundry, if he isn’t distracted by something else.”

Or asleep, given how late Ignis worked.

_“I’ve never heard of a kid that liked chores. Sounds like you hit the jackpot with this one.”_

Ignis smiled fondly.

He sure did.

“He is the best accident to ever happen to me.”

_“The what?”_

Aw, _hell._

“Oh, the situation that led to me becoming his babysitter was due to an accident that involved his older brother and I in high school,” he was honestly kind of amazed by how quickly he could come up with bullshit on the fly like this, “I had the dates mixed up for volleyball tryouts and ended up trying out for soccer. That was how I met him and his family.”

When he died, Ignis’s soul was heading straight into the eighth circle of Hell. Do not pass Go, do not collect two-hundred dollars.

“You have yet to disclose your hobbies, by the way,” he pointed out, desperately trying to divert the attention from his slip-up.

_“You mean other than getting swole?”_

Ignis’s brow furrowed. “Is… Is that a penis joke?”

A barking laugh threatened to blow out Ignis’s right eardrum.

_“Hahaha! No, no, it’s slang for getting buff. Unless you want it to be a dick joke – I can either way.”_

 “Absolutely not.”

_“You sure?”_

“Most definitely.”

_“Fine, fine. But, yeah, I work out.”_

As if that wasn’t painfully obvious.

_“And I watch a lot of esports,” he continued, “Rugby, too – a bunch of us from emergency services play together on the weekends.”_

“Oh, good, so far we have nothing in common besides an appreciation for coffee,” Ignis drawled.

_“Do we **need** to have a bunch in common?”_

There was a smile in Gladiolus’s voice that made it clear that he did not agree with the idea.

“Shouldn’t we? Having something in common is the foundation for a bond between two people.”

_“Is getting along not enough?”_

As his eyes followed Noctis’s movements, who was clearly beginning to get bored with cleaning the paint from the walls, Ignis twisted his mouth to the side in disapproval.

“What would you talk about, if not your shared interests?”

_“Who says you can’t grow together and **find** shared interests?”_

Well… Damn, alright, Ignis had no response to that.

“” _I think it’s good for people to have their own things. Everyone needs alone time. Don’t they?”_

Even teeth bit down on the inside of his cheek.

“I suppose your argument has its merits,” he acquiesced.

“ _I’m not trying to put you down, or anything, you know,”_ Gladiolus quickly followed, _“I just don’t want ya to write anything off before we’ve have a chance to –“_

“No, no, you don’t seem the type to belittle others for the sake of pushing your opinions on them,” Ignis interjected, not really in the mood to listen to him scramble to needlessly cover his tracks “I was being honest when I admitted that what you say makes sense.”

He watched Noctis drop the sponge back into his basket, hands once again covered in paint. The wall was as clean as it was going to get with his efforts, but Ignis would have to go in and clean up the chunks of color he had missed, and wet smears he had left behind.

“ _You’re being kinda quiet, though.”_

“I am not accustomed to being reminded of how inexperienced I am in something,” Ignis answered honestly.

Gladiolus sounded more than a little disbelieving when he responded with, _“In, what, dating?”_

“Does that surprise you?”

_“I mean, you’re cute as hell so, yeah. I figured I was gonna be competing with a dozen other guys for your attention.”_

Ignis frowned. If he felt that compliments would get him anywhere, Gladiolus was going to be in for a tough ride.

He grabbed Noctis’s wrist and picked his clothes from the floor when he tried to scurry to the living room. “Come here, you. It’s time to get dressed.”

 “Don’t _wanna_.”

“Noctis, you are going to turn into a popsicle if you remain naked.”

He tucked the phone between his shoulder and his ear so he could wrangle Noctis into a sitting position and get his shirt over his head.

“Daddyyyyy! No!”

“So. Is it safe to say that you enjoy breakfast?”

_“You actually wanna go out?”_

There was no need for Ignis to have a clear view of his face – just hearing his voice made it apparent that Gladiolus’s entire visage lit _up_.

“I will be paying for my own meal, and I will be driving myself, but… Yes. I would like to get breakfast, if you are agreeable to the idea.”

_“No, yeah, that’s totally cool! When do you wanna go?”_

“Assuming you haven’t thrown out the coffee sleeve from last week, you should still have my work schedule. Whenever works for you.”

_“Hell no I didn’t throw it away! Hang on-“_

There was some bustling on the other end of the line and Ignis took the pause in conversation to determine whether Gladiolus’s enthusiasm was a warning sign or not. There was no way that he would be this into him after all of two conversations – both of which were mostly small talk while Ignis waited for his break to be over.

The compliments, the excitement over something like a breakfast date… Something about it made Ignis’s stomach twist as he finished buckling the straps of Noctis’s overalls.

He trailed the tip of his finger down his cute button nose, booping the tip and smiling weakly when he made the sound.

_“Okay, so I work on Tuesday. Does Wednesday work for you? A little more towards ten, so I have time to hit the gym and get changed.”_

“Barring an act of god-“ Read: Nyx calling out “sick” again to get out of a lousy shift, “-Thursday morning at ten works just fine.”

“ _Great! That’s great - I’ll have to text the address ‘cos I can’t use the internet on my phone during a call and I give shit directions. Also, it’s way too damn cold for me to get out from under this blanket right now.”_

Still sitting on the floor, Noctis having disappeared into the living room for his coloring books, Ignis raised an eyebrow and checked the time on his phone.

“You are in bed at four in the afternoon?”

_“Hah! No, I’m on my couch watching a tournament.”_

“For?”

_“League.”_

As if Ignis knew what that was.

_“My team’s not playing today, though, so I’m just kinda watching because I’m bored. But I’m gonna let you go so you can get back to watching the rugrat.”_

“Enjoy the rest of your day off, then.”

_“Yeah, yeah. Um… Can I text you?”_

“That _is_ part of why I gave you my number.”

_“Can I send you dick pics later?”_

Ignis rolled his eyes. “Good _bye_ , Gladiolus.”

He hung up, Gladiolus’s raucous laughter over his own joke so loud that it came out distorted through the speaker.

Part of him wanted to smile, but there was still a lingering uneasiness in his gut.

Normal people didn’t get that excited over a date with someone they hardly knew, right?

Ignis drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around his legs and burying his face in his knees to keep himself grounded.

He stayed like that until the silence of the room made his ears ring, when he decided it was time to take the check down to the main office; the manager would no doubt be thrilled to find out that he actually had rent on time, this month.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read Akatsuki eSports, this entire chapter is going to be very, very familiar but it does have a great number of changes to it.  
> It's because it's one of the only scenes that actually made it into the final game.  
> Sorry not sorry.  
> Also, you know that scene where Iggy fell asleep with Noctis? Well [here's](https://twitter.com/StudioSenpai/status/930165432081879040) the test sketch for the CG from the original scene :) It's hella cute. My character artist just sent it today.

He couldn’t do this.

The idea of going out seemed fun, in theory, but, as Ignis watched the clock dragged him closer to the time he was supposed to meet Gladiolus, he felt an impending sense of doom weigh down on him.

As a result, he’d spent the majority of an hour formulating a plan to cancel.

Of course, he couldn’t simply _say_ that he no longer wanted to go – that would be rude and, well, Ignis didn’t want to entirely close the door on Gladiolus.

He wanted to see him in the _future_ , just… Not right in this moment. Later.

Ignis would commit to seeing him later.

Butterflies were drag-racing in Ignis's stomach as he hastily snatched his phone from the nightstand and opened up his call history to select the most recent number; he tried to not drop the phone when he brought it up to his ear with shaking fingers.

_Please, **please** , please let this be easy._

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Four –

There was a burst of noise that sounded a lot like wind.

_"Y'ello?"_

Ignis almost passed out.

 “Gladiolus?"

_"Sure is."_

The wind slowly faded away, but there was still a considerable amount of background noise.

Completely used to having managers do all of the talking on his behalf, he suddenly realized that he had no clue how to approach this conversation.

 “It's Ignis."

A warm chuckle. _"Uh-huh.”_

Ignis rubbed at the ache in his back nervously. “Are you busy?”

_"Not really, just on my way to the gym."_

That explained the background noise.

“Oh."

Gladiolus hummed, and there were a few moments of awkward silence.

_“You okay?”_

Ignis fidgeted.

“I am afraid that my car is in the shop at the moment. I won’t be able to get breakfast with you.”

Because, apparently, canceling on someone was rude but lying wasn’t?

 _"It’s no big deal-“_ Oh, thank the Astrals above – _“I can just pick you up.”_

Ignis's brain, which hadn’t even considered this, nearly short-circuited as he spluttered for a response.

“I appreciate the offer, but I would rather not inconvenience you.”

_“Don’t worry about it! If it was an issue, then would I have offered?”_

He felt himself beginning to panic.

 “Are you sure? I live near the Citadel. I can only imagine how far out of your way that would take you.”

_“No problem! We can go someplace downtown, then.”_

Which was little more than a ten minute drive from the apartment.

_Shit._

Thanks to his lack of experience, Ignis found himself incapable of drawing up further excuses to get himself out of the arrangement. He was so accustomed to rejecting any and all invitations, that he had no idea how to cancel plans after they had already been made.

Wringing the hem of his sleep shirt in his fist, he acquiesced. “I don't see why that would be a problem.”

There was a click of a turning signal, and an engine revving.

_"Great! I’ll be at the gym for about an hour. If you text me the address, I could swing by and pick you up."_

Okay, yeah, _now_ his brain was short-circuiting. Ignis wasn't sure what he said in response, but it made Gladiolus laugh a little nervously.

_"Sorry, do I sound too excited? If it would make you more comfortable then I can send an Uber, instead.”_

Great. He was _already_ making things uncomfortable.

“No, no,” he said a little too earnestly, “I just would rather not be a burden."

On the other end of the line, Gladiolus snorted.

_“Don't worry about it! Just let me know what **you** wanna do.”_

Did he have to be so darn _nice_ about this?

“Well… I suppose I will see you once you get out of the gym.”

They said their goodbyes, and Ignis's head was nearly spinning by the time he was able to type out the address to the apartment.

This entire situation was going against every instinct that was hardwired for flight, not fight, but he was in too deep to back out now.

He quickly rushed through to get to his bedroom, glancing down at his phone when it vibrated in his hand.

_awesome. be there around 0800._

Plenty of time for a shower, then.

Ignis stripped out of his pajama pants and chucked them onto the bed with his trunks, turning back to his dresser to fish a clean pair of underwear out of the top drawer. Why he felt he needed a fresh pair of underwear when he had only changed them six hours earlier was beyond him, but it wasn't as if his brain was functioning properly as he shuffled to the dresser.

Was he supposed to dress down, or dress like you would for a proper date?

Clearly, Gladiolus didn't care for formalities, but did he expect him to be as casual as they were over the phone? If he dressed too well for the occasion, would he think he was pompous?

The lack of options did not help matters; Ignis only had a grand total of two pairs of pants and a handful of shirts, which meant that his only choices were to look like he was dressed for the grocery store or for a job interview.

He yanked a pair of skinny jeans off of the hanger and, after a few moments of deliberation, a plain t-shirt.

After showering, fixing his hair, brushing his teeth and dabbing a bit of drugstore concealer under his eyes, Ignis finally calmed down enough to consider that _maybe_ he was over thinking this entire situation.

Still, he stiffly sat on the edge of his bed, drumming his fingers on his knees nervously when he wasn't watching the minutes tick by.

What if it went bad?

What if they didn’t get along?

What if they got along, but things soured after he became attached?

A half an hour into listening to the oppressive silence of his room, Ignis realized that maybe he should let his son know that he was going to be leaving so, as if there was a spring in his butt, he hopped off of the bed to rush out of the room.

Noctis, unfortunately, was having none of it.

As soon as the words passed through his lips, he was sitting upright and clinging to his father’s shoulders.

“Noctis, please, daddy will only be out for a couple of hours,” he pleaded, trying to pry his fingers from his shirt.

Noctis pressed his face into Ignis’s neck with an angry whine. “No! Stay!”

“Noctis –“

“ _Stay!_ ”

“Don’t you want to play with nana?” he offered, praying that it would placate the screeching child, “Nana is going to be here with you.”

“Don’ _want_ nana!”

Astrals, this kid. He should have just left without waking him up.

“Daddy just wants to play with his friend for a while.”

Noctis shook his head so hard that he momentarily worried that he could hear his brain rattling around in his skull. “No! Don’t go!”

That went on for some time until Ignis gave up on trying to convince Noctis to remove the vice grip he had around his neck.

Thankfully, once he offered breakfast and cartoons, he calmed down enough for Ignis to be sure that he was no longer at risk of dying from asphyxiation.

He hadn’t forgotten the whole ordeal, though.

Even after being handed a small bowl of oatmeal in front of the TV – something Ignis did _not_ make a habit of – Noctis kept the hem of his shirt tight in his fist as if to hold him in place.

Of course, it meant that he didn’t have a hand keeping the bowl steady, so he nearly dumped oatmeal in his lap on three separate occasions. Eventually, he gave up and opted to just smash his hands into the bowl.

It was producing a dreadful mess but it provided Ignis with an opportunity to break free. After a quick pat of his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed, he twisted the lock on the doorknob and stepped over the threshold, the door clicking shut behind him and smiling at the way Ezma cooed.

Gladiolus was leaning against a black muscle car when he exited the building, looking patient as ever as he read something on his phone.

“You are quite early,” Ignis noted.

"Am I?”

The grin never left Gladiolus's face as he ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Sorry, I was too excited to focus on working out so I quit maybe thirty minutes in.”

Ignis shrugged and took the liberty of claiming the passenger seat. The car smelled like polished, clean leather and air freshener, probably from the tiny clip in the AC vent.

It looked as nice on the inside as its well-maintained exterior, if a little ostentatious, but it made him worry that Gladiolus was the type that used his car as an excuse to drive like a moron. Especially given the fact that he made a fifteen minute drive in under ten.

As they peeled out of the parking lot, Ignis’s eyes opened to roll over the contours of the other man's body, lingering on the intricate patterns of the tattoo that wrapped around his entire upper arm.

There was so much going on, with curved lines and feather textures everywhere you looked, that Ignis couldn't help but find himself almost entranced by the plain black ink that squirmed and twisted as Gladiolus's arms moved with the steering wheel.

He hadn’t any opportunities to get a good look at it when they spoke previously, what with work occupying most of his attention, and, now, he wanted nothing more than to drink in every detail.

“So. Did you sleep okay?”

Ignis flinched at the suddenness of his question, completely unprepared for his voice to slice through the silence.

“Well enough.”

Gladiolus peered at him out of the corner of his eye. “Is your head still bothering you?”

The night before, Ignis had a nasty headache from the too-loud music at the bar, and a particularly irritating group of drunk women that screeched and hollered for nearly three hours straight.The headache followed him home and, somehow, Ignis found himself texting Gladiolus about it until four in the morning.

“Not at all,” he answered calmly, “Thank you for your concern.”

A couple minutes of awkward silence surrounded them as neither of them knew what to say.

Ignis was more focused on suppressing the panic that percolated through his system than he was on attempting any form of conversation, immediately regretting getting into Gladiolus’s car.

Why did he do this?

If breakfast went south, he would be stuck with him.

In close quarters.

Alone.

The night from the bar flashed in his mind’s eye.

Oh god, what if he cornered him again?

What if he –

“So, that tournament I was telling you about?”

Ignis knitted his brow as he was, once again, yanked out of his thoughts.

Gladiolus had been watching another one of those gaming tournaments last night, which was why he was up so late; it was located in Germany.

“After you fell asleep, these guys – they’re kinda tournament favorites – ended up winning in the grand finals and one of them proposed to his girl on stage,” he explained, grinning, “Right there in front of everyone. It was cute as shit.”

Gladiolus was seemingly oblivious to the tension in the younger man's face as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Does that sort of thing happen often?” he asked, not even bothering to pretend like he understood a damn thing about esports. All Ignis knew was that hundreds of college-aged boys played video games for an exorbitant amount of money, and that the girls’ tournaments were severely lacking.

Gladiolus shook his head. “Nah – most of the guys in esports are in their early twenties so they’re kinda young to be getting married. Not like they have the time, anyways. They train, like, ten hours a day, every day, and then they stream at night.”

Ah, yes, streaming. That was something Ignis had looked up in his downtime, after it was brought up in conversation. He could hardly keep up with what was being said in most of the chat rooms – chat boxes? – and he found himself quite annoyed when the streamers would talk over important cutscenes.

“So how did this one manage to acquire a girlfriend?”

“He’s one of the older ones. Twenty-eight or twenty-nine, I think. He’s been around for fuckin’ ever so I guess he managed to find a happy medium.”

Ignis couldn’t help but feel a little impatient to hear the result of the proposal. “ _Well_ , did she say _yes_?”

 “Oh, _fuck_ yeah – those two have been together for _years_.”

“How will he maintain a marriage with that kind of schedule, though?” he asked, genuinely curious, “I would imagine that it would hardly be a marriage if he isn’t present.”

Kisame frowned, deflating a little.

 “He actually announced his retirement. It was a part of the whole thing, promising to retire to spend his life with her. I guess he’s moving into more of a coaching role, which is cool for him, I guess.”

“You don’t sound entirely thrilled by this.”

Gladiolus shrugged.

“I dunno. I’m glad he’s happy, and all, but he’s helped shaped the scene and’s always been there at every event,” he admitted, “It’ll feel weird to not see him on stage anymore.”

A small smile tugged at Ignis’s lips.

“You are quite a fan of this man.”

Gladiolus gave him a sidelong glance and winked. “Jealous, already?”

Ignis rolled his eyes but matched his grin, regardless.

“Are you going to any events, soon?”

“Yeah, there’s one at the end of August I plan on goin’ to in Seattle. It’s the world championship for the game, so the competition’s fuckin’ insane.”

Good lord he knew how to swear. Ignis watched him fiddle with the radio knobs.

“Do you enjoy traveling?”

Gladiolus grimaced. “I kinda hate it, honestly. Airports are too crowded and I never sleep well in hotels.”

He huffed at the radio and smacked the auxiliary button before dropping his hand down to grab a blue iPod.

“But the experience is so crazy in person. The hype is through the fuckin’ roof. Way better than watching the livestream at home.”

After several seconds of watching Gladiolus glance back and forth between his iPod and the road, putting on his blinker to merge over to the exit lane, Ignis couldn't stop himself from frowning.

“I would appreciate it if I was returned home in one piece.”

With a raised eyebrow, the grin never left Gladiolus's face as he all but chucked the music device into his lap. "Fine, you pick something."

Ignis's frown deepened.

When it came to digging through peoples' electronics, he most certainly learned his lesson after stumbling across multiple porn folders on Nyx’s phone when the café’s music doohickey broke mid-shift. And, well, there was very little incentive for him to risk walking away from this car ride knowing what genre Gladiolus masturbated to just to find a good song.

After a few seconds of scrutinizing the object like a bomb squad member would regard a mysterious bag left in an airport, he unlocked the screen and tapped back out of whatever playlist he was in to scroll through the artist list.

His eyes widened a little in astonishment, and his lips quirked upwards, when he finally found an artist he recognized.

"You like Of Monsters and Men?”

A little more delight slipped into his voice than he was okay with. Judging by Gladiolus's appearance, he was expecting something along the lines of dubstep and trap mixes, or maybe alternative rock.

He certainly wasn't expecting to find indie-folk pop-slash-rock.

Gladiolus turned onto a side street with a raised eyebrow. "You sound surprised."

Trying to not squirm in his seat at the realization of how far his foot was just jammed into his throat, Ignis kept his eyes down on the screen that was displaying album information.

“You just don't appear to be…"

"The _type_?"

Ignis froze for a second, then snapped his head up in mild horror.

“I didn't mean -."

Gladiolus cut him off with a laugh.

"Relax, Ignis. I'm a pretty self-aware guy,” he gestured at his body, “I probably look like someone that listens to crunkcore and porn rap, right?"

A beat.

He looked over to meet Ignis's gaze, who was blinking slowly at him.

"You okay?"

“Gladiolus, what the _hell_ is porn rap?"

There was a booming laugh that nearly scared the younger man out of his skin, and Gladiolus looked back to the road as he waited for the light to change.

"Judging by the look on your face, probably something that would ruin you for anything the hip hop genre has to offer ever again.”

He chuckled warmly, eyes almost glittering with mirth. They were so _bright_.

"But, yeah, I like music that's a little more… Mellow, I guess,” Gladiolus said, sounding a little unsure of how to explain himself, “I like bein’ able to relax, unless I'm working out. My coworker listens to a lot of Kpop and he got me into these fucking sick _mashups_. Can't understand a thing being said, but it's some of the catchiest shit I've ever heard."

They finally turned off of the ramp to merge into traffic but Ignis was more interested in digging through the rest of his iPod than paying attention to his surroundings.

"I wish I could say that I know of some hole-in-the-wall place that's a magical discovery, but we're just going to a brunch chain,” he said, “Is that okay?"

"It's just the only place I know that has breakfast that isn't just essentially fried batter and greasy bacon,” he tacked on.

It was a clunky admission, but Ignis couldn’t help but appreciate that he was going to breakfast with someone that took care in their diet; he wasn’t a finicky eater, but he loathed the idea of dating a fast food junkie.

 _Dating_.

 _Hah_ , look at him.

"Oh, and I was on Soundcloud the other night, just sort of letting it run through random songs, and I found this artist called Louis the something-or-other. He mostly does remixes, which I know isn't the same, but you might like it."

A small part of him felt triumphant for at least getting the part about computer-generated music right about Gladiolus, even if the song was technically just an electronic-slash-deep-bass remix.

Ignis bit his smiling lips between even teeth, letting his eyes slide shut as the chorus rolled around. Some of the tension began to bleed out of his muscles, and his suppressed smile fought to expand when Gladiolus turned the volume up. It really did sound nice.

Ignis raised a languid hand to the stereo to turn the volume back down as the song came to a close, almost seamlessly rolling into the next.

“Gladiolus."

His eyes flitted over to steal a glance in his direction. "Hm?"

“Why did you ask me to have breakfast with you?"

Ignis was surprised at how casual his voice sounded. Maybe it was the music, or the way Gladiolus seemed so comfortable, but he found himself almost at ease with the situation as they pulled off of the highway.

Almost.

Gladiolus grinned sheepishly, and the muscles in his forearms flexed as he tightened his fingers on the steering wheel .

“Didn’t I already tell you?”

Ignis stared. Gladiolus shrugged.

"I just really enjoyed being able to talk to you. I wanted to spend some more time together.”

Not even the music could keep the remains of Ignis's smile from settling into a hard line.

The car pulled into a parking stall, and was put into park, but no effort was made to kill the engine and neither of the men removed their seat belts. It didn't take a Jedi to sense how dissatisfied he felt with the response delivered, so Gladiolus's grin faltered.

"Is that a bad thing?"

His words were laced with what sounded like legitimate concern, though the tone of his voice wasn't what got to Ignis – it was the sheer _intensity_ in the way he was looking at him.

His eyes were incredibly _amber_. It was the type of eye color you never saw outside of heavily edited photographs, and Ignis marveled at how they could so quickly change from looking warm and bright, to startlingly keen and almost hypnotizing.

It threw him off balance, and he had to avert his gaze.

“I just fail to understand the appeal."

Gladiolus sighed, releasing the steering wheel to shift his body so that it was facing the passenger seat, one arm propped on the center console.

"Look, I like to think I'm an easy guy to get along with-” All trace of enthusiasm had vacated his voice,"-But I don't _click_ with a lot of people – I don't usually walk away from conversations wanting more. Even if it was just small talk about nothing, I wanted more of that." He paused for just a moment. "I wanted more of _you._ "

Ignis's frown deepened in a way not entirely unlike his son’s pout from earlier.

"Hey… If it's what you want, I got no problem with taking you back to your place,” Gladiolus assured him, “But, first, can you at least tell me why you agreed to meet with me if it makes you this uncomfortable?"

As he spent more time under the almost burning gaze of the man next to him, Ignis found himself beginning to feel more and more like a piece of shit for being this distrustful.

He felt his body shrink in on itself, and he unconsciously reached over his shoulder to rub at the ache in his back.

If Ignis was one hundred percent honest with himself, he would admit that he agreed to meet with Gladiolus because he wanted more of that connection, too.

It wasn't often that he had the chance to meet people he genuinely liked talking to, and their short conversation from before seemed to flow so organically that he almost couldn't believe that it was their first time meeting.

“I… Have a couple of demons I have yet to shake,” he confessed, voice soft, “I was letting them get to me, and that wasn't fair to you. I'm sorry."

"But you _did_ want to see me?" Gladiolus pressed.

Ignis looked up from beneath his eyelashes to meet his expectant gaze.

“I wanted to see you."

Just like that, the clear intensity vacated the other man's face and a slow smile spread across his face. It wasn't the bright, cheery smile from before, but a soft expression that was surprisingly gentle. It made Ignis feel light.

"I mean it, though.” Gladiolus's voice was low as he readjusted himself, leaning more into the seat than on his elbow. "The last thing I want is for you to feel uncomfortable. You'll tell me if you are, right?"

Ignis's hand drifted away from his lap so he could brush the back of his pinky along Gladiolus's, but stopped himself partway through. He tried to disguise the movement as simply returning the music player back to rest in one of the cup holders.

“Of course. Are you ready to head in?"

The way Gladiolus's eyebrow twitched told him that it wasn't the smoothest recovery, though he didn't bother with asking any questions, which Ignis was thankful for, and they both stepped out of the car and made their way across the parking lot without much conversation other than commenting on how warm the day was for being in the middle of January.

They were seated almost immediately, which Gladiolus claimed to be "Damn near a miracle" on a Saturday morning, and Ignis made a noble attempt to not scrunch his nose in disgust when their drink orders were taken.

“Kale juice?"

He put quite an effort on nutrition, but drinking kale was a step even he refused to take.

"I take care of my body, Ignis.”

Gladiolus gave him a once-over that practically screamed “Something you should probably do, too."

For a fleeting moment Ignis bristled and immediately parted his lips to defend himself but, when Gladiolus's eyes lifted to study his face, he realized that his date wasn't trying to give himself an air of superiority.

If anything, he looked thoughtful – concerned, even. With a laugh, Gladiolus rubbed at the back of his neck.

“Sorry, that came out real dickish, didn't it?"

When the only response he got was a deadpan stare, he chuckled again and held out his hand invitingly.

Ignis gave him a suspicious glare, but he was beginning to find himself drawn into that lopsided grin and found himself setting the menu on the table to slide his palm over his. Gladiolus's hands completely enveloped his, and the first thing Ignis noticed was how pale and delicate it looked in comparison as Gladiolus rolled his hand over to look at the top.

They were also calloused and warmer than he expected, but not uncomfortably so.

A welcomed distraction came in the form of their waitress returning with their drink orders.

Gladiolus ordered enough food to feed any normal human being for three days, including a bowl of fruit, a clusterfuck of an omelet with vegetables and salsa, some sort of muesli bowl and a side of chicken sausage.

To say that Ignis's order of toast paled in comparison would be an understatement.

Gladiolus frowned when his date began mixing and matching single-serving cups of creamer into his coffee. He wasn’t using the entirety of the cups, and he lamented the waste, so Ignis froze and wondered silently if he was being questioned for making his drink complicated, or if he was truly about to be reprimanded for indulging.

"You drink this every morning?"

He shrugged, downing nearly half of his mug and raising a suspicious eyebrow when Gladiolus slid his glass in his direction.

"Try it."

Ignis couldn't keep the expression of disgust off of his face.

"I _promise_ it's good. And it’s sure as shit better for you than _that_."

Ignis raised his mug to back his lips in defiance.

 “I have tried kale before and have no intention of ever allowing it back into my life."

He made the mistake of trying it in the form of a salad years ago. It had been an unpleasant experience, to say the least.

“Also, I can assure you that a dash of creamer never killed anybody.”

With a disapproving frown, which was twisted by that stupidly charming grin that never seemed to leave his face, Gladiolus nudged the glass forward.

“You can hardly even taste it over everything else,” he insisted, “I swear it tastes more like apple and cucumber than anything else. And it’s not the creamer – it’s the _caffeine_. The drinks’ve been on the table for less than a minute and you’re already pouring yourself a second cup."

That still sounded incredibly off-putting, and did not appeal to Ignis's admittedly picky palate whatsoever, but he sighed dramatically and reached out to drag the glass over the rest of the table.

He eyed the straw, wondering if he was expected to drink from it or not and dreading the fact that he would have to feel the unsettling sensation of glass against his teeth as he nudged it to the side.

It was cold, and a little thicker than he expected, and Ignis had to admit that Gladiolus was right in saying that the apple was the most distinguishable flavor out of the medley - even if there was still an undeniable taste of kale attempting to hide beneath the other ingredients.

The ginger was probably the most surprising, though it was mostly because Ignis wasn't expecting it.

After a second, he took another sip that was noticeably larger than his experimental one.

Gladiolus _beamed_.

Ignis huffed, sliding the glass back to its rightful owner and biting back a grin when Gladiolus laughed at his refusal to admit how refreshing it was.

“It is not _awful_ , but do not expect me to give up my coffee, just yet.”

That earned him an eye roll, because Ignis was already halfway through his second mug and was eyeing the pot that had been left on the table.

“You’re gonna give yourself a hangover.”

That was… Probably true.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, sipping at their beverages and simply enjoying each others' company.

It was nice to be able to relax and enjoy the morning for what it was, which was something that Ignis rarely had the opportunity for as raucous as Noctis could be once he had some food in him.

There was a lightness to the current mood, though, and Ignis thought that he wouldn't mind having more mornings like this.

Their quiet was interrupted by the server bringing by enough plates of food to feed a family, setting most of them in front of Gladiolus.

In Ignis's eyes it definitely looked like a daunting task to try and consume it all in one sitting but, given Gladiolus’s size, he wondered if it was necessary for him to maintain that amount of muscle mass.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, though, Gladiolus scooted the bowl of fruit over so that it was in the center of the table.

"You need more than two pieces of _toast_.”

Ignis paused in the middle of peeling back the flimsy foil seal of the single-serving strawberry jam packet. “Do you _normally_ make a habit out of getting on other peoples' cases for what they eat?

It wasn't meant to sound as accusing as it did, but Ignis's tone was sharp enough to make Gladiolus pause in cutting at his omelet with a fork.

It wasn’t as if he had ordered toast because he _wasn’t_ hungry, Ignis just didn’t have enough extra cash to blow ten dollars on a bowl of yogurt and granola.

Regardless of how his tone may have sounded, an apologetic smile pulled at Gladiolus’s lips.

"Only when I like them."

He… Had no response for that. Heat flared in Ignis's cheeks and he picked up a fork to stab at one of the smaller chunks of honeydew.

“So, you are a firefighter?"

Gladiolus nodded but didn’t look up from his food. "Yup, I work for the city’s department. Was in the Glaive for ‘bout fifteen years before that.”

Ignis's brow furrowed in thought. Was thirty-six old enough to have an extended military career, _and_ a career in firefighting?

“What made you shift paradigms?"

There was a pause while Gladiolus thought.

"I never really thought about it too much. I mostly joined the Navy to prove something to myself, but I only stayed in because I was good at it. When I made Captain, I realized I actually kinda hated it,” he chuckled a little, likely at some inside joke, “Barracks are pretty shitty to live in as it is, but I somehow always got stuck with fucknuts that made it that much worse.”

He paused to finish off the last of his juice, flagging the waitress down for some water before continuing with, “Not to mention, it’s kinda difficult to meet anyone when you’re deployed more often than not with no internet.”

Ignis raised an eyebrow.

“You weren’t allowed to use the internet?”

“Not on deployments, no. We could use email but, sometimes, we’d go dark and couldn’t send anything for months at a time. People in the Guard had a lot more freedom than we did.”

“Were you not allowed to change… Professions?”

The suppressed grin Gladiolus gave him told Ignis that he definitely didn’t select the correct word. “I could’ve gone Guard if I wanted to but, really, I had invested so much time in the Glaive that it felt kinda weird to think about working in any other part of the military.”

“So…” Ignis ripped a piece of his toast apart to dip it in some more jam, “Why firefighting, specifically?”

Shrugging, Gladiolus dug into his muesli bowl now that his omelet had been annihilated.

“We had firefighting training in basic and I thought it was fun."

In other words, he picked it on a whim.

Ignis hummed and popped the toast into his mouth, trying to distract himself from the envy that was rooting itself in his chest.

“What do you do, other than being paid to be a master of beverages?”

“I am _hardly_ a master,” he snorted. Ignis kept his tone mild, stuffing the last of his toast into his mouth. The last thing he wanted to do was allow himself to become crotchety again. “And I am afraid that you have already seen the extent of my employment. Barista by day, bartender by night, and babysitter in between.”

As if on cue, the ache nestled against his shoulder blade flared up. Frowning, Ignis reached into his pocket for his usual stash of a drugstore's worth of pain relievers.

Gladiolus eyed him as he popped the white pills into his mouth, tossing his head back with the last of his milk."You okay?"

“Just a minor headache,” he lied.

Ignis kept his gaze on the rapidly diminishing collection of fruit, spearing a sliver of strawberry with his fork. He could feel Gladiolus's eyes still on him as he chewed.

Thankfully, Gladiolus knew when to let things go. “Were you in college before this?”

Ignis's shoulders relaxed as best as they could with the pain and he tried to not make it too obvious how relieved he felt when Gladiolus chose to not press the issue.

“I never attended college,” he explained, “Before becoming _a master of beverages_ , as you so graciously put it, I was a pianist.”

That got Gladiolus’s attention, who sat up a little straighter. “Yeah? Like, were you one of those people that played in restaurants or…" his brow furrowed. "I actually got no clue where piano players play."

Ignis’s lips quirked upwards.

“Many are instructors, and some travel to events across the country year-round, sometimes as an accompanist or in orchestras,” something that Ignis would have _killed_ to experience, years ago, “However, I suppose that it's generally more common to see many pianists wind up working in restaurants or churches as a side job."

Finishing off his muesli bowl, Gladiolus set it onto the plate that used to hold his omelet and sipped at some of his water. “So where did you fit?"

Ignis stiffened when he almost immediately realized that this turn in the conversation wasn't any better than what it was before.

He peeked up at the man sitting across from him from under his eyelashes, wondering how he would respond. After a moment’s hesitation, “When I wasn't teaching freelance, I worked in a strip club.”

He watched Gladiolus's fingers twitch in response but, otherwise, he didn't react.

"I didn't know those places hired piano players.”

 _Those_ places.

Ignis could hear the question he was trying to subtly have answered, and he picked up his napkin to tear the corner to keep his hands busy and prevent himself from fidgeting too nervously.

“Most don't,” he agreed, “But the owner of that particular establishment prided himself on provided what he called an up-scale atmosphere. He felt it would help customers feel more at ease if we presented more of a refined experience, as opposed to most clubs that were…"

Ignis tore another chunk of napkin and scrunched his nose.

“Lamentable."

It was the most subtle way for Ignis to give the impression that he was a performer in the instrumental sense, rather than a naked sense, without blatantly saying it.

It wasn’t a _total_ lie, really; Ignis _did_ use the piano on several occasions…

The chair Gladiolus was seated in creaked with the weight shift as he leaned back, folding his thick arms over his chest. "Fair enough. Why'd you leave?"

Ignis looked up from his partially-shredded napkin to raise a delicate eyebrow as he asked, “You are asking why one would choose to quit working in a strip club?"

Picking up on the incredulous undercurrent to his voice, Gladiolus shrugged wordlessly.

He looked simultaneously curious and uncomfortable but was making an admirable attempt at suppressing the latter, so Ignis pinched his fingers together on a frayed edge of the thin paper to pull at it until the fibers separated, deciding not to further the teasing.

“The establishment catered to a wide variety of tastes, so it featured both men and women.” He shifted uncomfortably, discontent with how he had put himself in a position where he was trying to lie without _actually_ lying. “I learned that my employer decided to change my position in the company, without my consent, after a number of patrons displayed an interest in me."

Gladiolus hummed.

"How'd that go?"

Crap, crap, crap, _crap_.

Stop asking _questions_.

He lifted his gaze just long enough to meet Gladiolus's, before tearing another shred of napkin away.

“I was displeased with the situation, so I left.” The lie got stuck in Ignis’s throat and tumbled out clumsily.

Briefly, he thought that Gladiolus may have caught on to him.

There was a moment where that same intense expression from earlier returned, where those clear amber eyes stared at him in a way that felt almost piercing, as if Gladiolus was staring right into his head.

After a quick pause, though, he shrugged as if to say he wasn't going to push the issue.

"You'll tell me all that, but you won't talk about why you carry around thousands of milligrams of acetaminophen in your pocket?"

Ignis matched his soft laugh with a shaky, nervous one of his own. “I suppose my priorities are somewhat skewed. The Tylenol is just for a bothersome ache in my back."

Well, at least _that_ was true, if downplayed a bit.

Proving herself to be a hero for the second time in one morning, the waitress returned with two black check books, effectively saving the pair from another bout of uncomfortable silence.

They both scooted their chairs back and navigated through the mass of tables and booths towards the counter, with Ignis plucking one of the complimentary mints from the tiny wicker basket next to the bucket of pens.

The air had warmed even more by the time they made their way back out to the parking lot, and Ignis was flirting with the idea of removing his sweater when Gladiolus stopped in front of his car to turn back and face him.

“Thank you."

Blinking owlishly, Ignis came to an abrupt halt just a couple paces away. “Pardon?"

Gladiolus stepped back to sit on the hood of his car, arms folded over his chest.

"You gave me a second chance, and came out here with me, and I could tell you weren't all that comfortable talking about where you used to work, so…" He lifted his head to meet Ignis's softened gaze. "Thank you."

Ignis shrugged off his sweater and lowered himself onto the hood next to him.

“ _I_ should probably be the one thanking _you_ ,” he countered, “I don't get out often, so this was refreshing." He folded his arms across his hips and gave Gladiolus a soft smile. “You have my sincerest apologies for allowing myself to overthink things earlier. I psyched myself out."

A warm, gentle smile slowly spread across Gladiolus's face, and he lifted a hand to brush Ignis's bangs out of his face.

“I’m just glad to hear that you don't regret coming with me."

Ignis's eyes lingered on that smile for several seconds longer, guilt settling in every corner of his chest.

Eventually he very, very slowly leaned over to rest the side of his head on the other man's shoulder, feeling a warm sense of satisfaction when Gladiolus didn't stiffen up or pull away. Instead, he felt him gently rub the back of his knuckles against Ignis's, who nudged back until their fingers were lazily entwined.

“Gladiolus?"

He felt him turn his face down so that his cheek was resting atop Ignis's.

"Hm?"

With the tip of his finger, he traced the design at the bottom of his tattoo.

“May we stay like this for a while?"

Ignis watched as his fingers squeezed his in their backwards hold.

"Yeah, I don't wanna go back yet, either."

The warmth of the sun on their backs and the soft feeling of Gladiolus's body must have made him drowsy because, the next thing he knew, Ignis was opening eyes he hadn't realized had closed to see the parking lot almost completely full of cars.

Surprise prompted him to flinch almost violently, and he pulled away to whip his head around as if surveying the lot would answer the questions that flew through his head.

Gladiolus didn't seem the least bit perturbed, though, because he only chuckled and released his fingers to rub the small of his back.

Ignis twitched at the contact.

"Relax, it's only been maybe half an hour,” he assured him, “The church crowd usually shows up in one big wave."

 “I need to get home.”

The adrenaline rush from waking up in an unfamiliar place was beginning to wear off, leaving Ignis feeling bleary, as a breeze rolled through the parking lot. It was one of those cool winds that felt even colder from the warmth of the heat wave, and Ignis subconsciously curled in on himself in a vain attempt at better insulating his body.

He felt the hand on his back smooth over to rest on his waist. He stiffened a little, but managed to resist the urge to flinch this time.

“Hey… The little boy you said you were sitting… You’re his dad, aren’t you?”

The light, happy sensation in Ignis's chest was instantaneously replaced by an uncomfortable weight, not unlike the feeling earlier when he first began to doubt the idea of meeting Gladiolus for breakfast.

It was as if someone had just dumped a cooler filled with ice water over him as he was resting on the beach, shocking his entire system.

Twisting out of what previously felt like a comforting hold, he put some distance between them and scrambled for an answer.

“Why would you lie about that?”Gladiolus sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, following the motion through his hair. “Is it because of what happened at the bar? Did I freak you out that much?”

He couldn’t bring himself to look up from his worn sneakers.

Why was his stomach fluttering this much? This was what he _did_.

Ignis lied to people all of the time with no self-condemnation – so frequently that, at times, it felt almost second-nature.

He lied to keep people from getting close. To him. To Noctis.

Yet, there he was, ripe to vomit with shame.

A family of four stepped into the parking lot from the restaurant, the sounds of their voices breaking the uncomfortable silence.

 “I…”

He ground his molars into his tongue, fighting to find the courage to explain himself.

“Will you at least look at me?” Gladiolus sounded so earnest that it made his chest ache.

He came off as a nice guy, so nice that he apparently had a taste for worrying over how well other people took care of themselves, and he sounded sincere earlier when he was offering to take him back to the apartment if he was uncomfortable, and it was clear that he was being genuine when apologizing for his behavior before…

It wasn’t as if Ignis wanted to lie – he didn’t _enjoy_ it.

Ignis didn't _want_ to feel the compulsion to fabricate stories out of self-preservation.

What he _wanted_ was more mornings like _this_ , where he got to relax and chat and simply enjoy the kind of warm company that Gladiolus provided.

He wanted to be able to feel the rough calluses on his thumbs when they rubbed over the backs of Ignis’s hands like that.

He wanted more of that _smile_.

But he _didn’t_ want more of the same pain he had lived with for his entire adult life.

He didn’t want to put Noctis in another situation that left him suffering the way that he did.

Ignis wasn’t even sure if he could ever forgive himself for letting it happen in the first place.

It was an enormous risk, one that could have consequences that would leave Ignis devastated.

Even so…

How long was he going to let that damnable man’s actions control him?

Why was he even _here_ if he was so convinced that things would go south?

Several long minutes passed before Gladiolus released his hands and stood up with an obviously restrained sigh, snapping him out of his internal struggle.

"Alright, so do you mind if we make a pit stop at the gas station on the way back?"

Even without the tightness in his voice, Gladiolus’s disappointment was evident, from the tightness in his brow to the way his broad shoulders slumped as he started to turn back to the car.

Ignis didn't know which made him feel worse – the way that Gladiolus was frowning, or the fact that _he_ was the one that put it there.

Springing up from the hood, Ignis reached out for Gladiolus’s arm, wrapping his slender fingers as best he could around his thick bicep to pull him to a stop.

Despite not having anywhere near enough stopping power to bring Gladiolus to a full halt, the gesture itself seemed enough to encourage the older man to turn around.

“My last relationship… It did not end well.”

“So, what, now you keep her a secret?”

It was obvious that Gladiolus didn’t mean to sound accusing but, given the situation, it felt like it.

“I am sorry that I lied, I – just… My son – Gladiolus, Noctis is _everything_ to me… I struggle with trusting anyone with _anything_ – the idea of trusting someone with _him_ is…”

He trailed off before he could himself too worked up, biting his lip

He had no intention of making excuses.

“I apologize. I did not come here with the intention to ruin your morning. I am just… _Exceedingly_ wary of whom I allow around him.”

There was a moment where Gladiolus's mouth was set into a hard line as his eyes traveled up and down Ignis's body, as if assessing his body language before responding.

Then, with a gusty sigh, he eased up.

Gladiolus reached out with the arm not still in Ignis's grasp to cup his jaw. His thumb rubbed rhythmically along his cheek bone, eyes searching for his.

Had it been anyone else, he would have subtly twisted away from the heavy hand that held his face.

He would have stepped away, offered a quiet goodbye, and ordered a ride back to the apartment.

Had it been anyone else, Ignis wouldn't have slid his fingers down the contours of his arm to lace their fingers back together.

“It was that bad?” he asked, voice a low rumble, “What happened with your ex?”

He had _no_ idea.

Ignis nodded wordlessly.

Another heavy silence filled the air between them.

All Ignis could think about was how he wished he could start out their morning differently.

“Okay.”

Okay?

“People go through rough shit. I get that. I mean –“ he sighed a little, clearly struggling to find the words he was looking for, “It’s not _okay_ that you lied, but… I really fuckin’ like you. And I wanna keep doing this. But, if we do, I need you to be honest with me. I _hate_ being lied to.”

A half-hearted laugh made its way past Ignis's lips.

“ _This_ ," He echoed, still having no clue what this entailed.

Thankfully Gladiolus was a good sport and laughed with him, raising a hand to brush away the bangs that fell over Ignis's face.

“Yeah, this wasn't the smoothest date I've been on,” he agreed.

He snorted and resisted the urge to lean into the fingers carding through his hair. “Oh, so _that_ is what this was supposed to be."

"See, now you're just _trying_ to be difficult,” Gladiolus groaned.

“No, really- “ Ignis bit back a grin, “What on Earth made you think that I would want to go on a date with you? We have known each other for little more than a couple of weeks, at best – for all you know, I am betrothed to a lovely girl."

"I'm pretty perceptive. Want me to give you a play-by-play?"

“Not particularly.”

He wished that the happy feeling from earlier would replace the dread that insisted on lingering in his gut.

Unfortunately, a slimy voice in the back of his mind told him that just because he had a good time with Gladiolus didn't mean that he wasn’t dangerous.

Gladiolus's chest rumbled as he chuckled, dropping his hands down so he could lace the tips of their fingers together.

It took a while, but Ignis managed to drag his eyes away from the pavement.

“Thank you. For… Understanding.”

Gladiolus hummed. "We've gotta talk about this kinda stuff eventually, right? Maybe it's better to get it out of the way in the beginning. Just -” Gladiolus’s hand, finished with combing through Ignis’s inky hair, slipped back to hold his jaw like before. “- if I bring up something you don’t wanna talk about, can you just say so? I’m not the kind of guy that’ll try to push the issue. I just wanna be able to trust you.”

A part of him wanted to protest, to explain that he was more than just a handful to deal with, but Ignis wondered if he would be doing it to save Gladiolus the time and energy, or to sabotage whatever they could have early-on so it wouldn't hurt as bad when it ended.

“I promise.”

Instead, he let himself be guided to the passenger door by the hand, rolling his eyes and laughing when Gladiolus, who was walking backwards with that goofy grin on his face, tripped and nearly toppled over.

That happy, lopsided grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inb4 I haven't abandoned Chocobros Plus Four. It's not dead.  
> But I work at Starbucks, which is HELLA busy during the holidays because of all their promotions (oh god, the buy one get one ; - ; ) and holiday shoppers. So I haven't been able to write much. The only reason this is getting updated because it's already been written (albeit, it's unedited and subject to change in the final version) so all I really gotta do is ctrl+f every thing and make sure there aren't any (many) inconsistencies. This chapter is actually the ending of the game's first chapter, and we've got like 160k written so far, so... Yeah. We've got a bit to work with lol.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh.

"Soooooooo.”

Aranea hopped on top of the counter and leaned forward, cradling her face in her palms and kicking her feet back and forth like a teenager in an '80s flick.

 “How'd it _goooo?_ "

Rolling his eyes, Ignis pulled out the swivel chair to drop into it. “It went… Well."

During the lull that preceded the five o’clock rush, Ignis and Aranea had been working in the back to get what they could ready. Being the type that did not approve of long bouts of silence, Aranea had struck up idle conversation just to help the time pass while she prepped a batch of cold brew for the next day.

While poking some sticks into cake pops, Ignis noted that must have been more tired than he initially thought because, without even realizing it, he at some point let her in on the secret that was his date with Gladiolus.

The only way he was able to get her to stop shrieking and complaining about how he had waited “over two weeks to tell me, like we’re not even _bloody_ friends!” was to promise an explanation after the shop closed.

Which led them to now.

Aranea’s smile positively _radiated_ excitement.

“Yeah? Like, you dig him? He was cool?”

“He was cool.”

Aranea frowned disapprovingly. “Come on, Iggle Biggle,” she chided, “Is _that_ all you have to say about him?”

Ignis tried not to sigh too loudly, but he couldn’t help but smile a little.

 “He was a very kind, very proper gentleman,” he confirmed, “We decided that it would be nice to start… Casually seeing each other."

The edges of Aranea’s eyes crinkled with her smile.

"You got no clue how excited I am for you."

Ignis snorted and rolled his eyes again. “Says the one that is mere days away from being wed,” he reminded, “A single date does not guarantee a successful relationship.”

The back of his pocket rumbled twice. He pulled out his phone and unlocked the screen, immediately biting at his lips to keep them from stretching into a grin when he saw who the text was from.

_please tell me you have this friday off. and you like ramen._

Aranea hopped off the counter with as much flourish as she could manage.

"I'm leaving _forever_ , in two days, and you're ignoring me?!” she snapped with no real fury to her voice, “Better be _real_ fucking important."

Ignis chuckled and shook his head. “You and I both are fully aware that being rid of you is not so easy."

Besides, her honeymoon was only for a couple of weeks; it would _hardly_ be forever.

_Racist implications aside, yes to both._

Nyx appeared from the back room, a takeout bag full of treats past their sale date hugged to his chest, looking every bit as exhausted as he probably was.

"Damn straight. Who ya talkin' to?"

His phone vibrated again and he tore his eyes from his sleepy coworker to glance down at the screen. “Gladiolus."

_fuck you lol  
one of the guys heres talking about a place that just opened up_

Nyx’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline, and he stood on his tiptoes to lean over the counter, as if he could somehow peek at Ignis’s phone from twenty feet away, to ask, "What's he want?"

"Presumably, he wishes to take me to dinner this weekend."

He tapped his thumbs across the tiny keyboard. _What is it called?_

There was a pause where neither of them said anything, but, after a few seconds of listening to the rain patter against the window pane, Nyx nodded and looked down at the floor. "You like him?"

“I've hardly had the time to get to know him."

Ignis said it almost dismissively, more as an act of self-preservation than anything else.

“But…" He felt his cheeks start to flush, “So far, yes, I have enjoyed time spent with him. He is fun, and kind…"

And the way he stared at you when he thought you weren't looking…

Ignis bit at his smiling lips.

"Alright, spare me the gory details,” Nyx groaned, running a hand through his shaggy hair, “You're gonna give me weird dreams that, to be honest, I _don't_ need to be having about you."

“Give it a rest, Nyx,” Aranea hissed, “We have to listen to you gush about every one of your flavors of the week.”

He laughed, both from Nyx’ teasing and from the happy bubbly feeling in his chest, and finished mopping the final corner of the floor.

The two bickered back and forth while they wrapped up the last of their closing responsibilities, Ignis taking the liberty of swiping the leftover pastries not nabbed by his coworkers.

By the time Aranea flicked off the lights, and they had parted ways to their cars, his phone had received a whopping six text messages from a comically panicked Gladiolus.

 _shit did i really offend you with the ramen thing?_  
i’m sorry, i wasnt asking because you’re asian  
it just sounded like a nice place  
we can go someplace else  
i just wanna see you again  
Ignis?

He fought the urge to chuckle at the text messages as they continued to blow up his phone, plucking a piece of raspberry danish from his spoils to tide him over until breakfast.

Upon realizing that Gladiolus wasn't going to stop any time soon, he tapped his contact information and brought the phone up to his ear.

"Pardon me if I'm interrupting anything, but, if  I allowed you to continue at that rate, you would have completely depleted my battery.”

He kept the door open, sitting sideways in the seat so he could brush any crumbs onto the asphalt.

“ _I’m sorry.”_

Ignis rolled his eyes and grinned to himself, cake placed at his lips.

“You have apologized _more_ than enough. I’m not even upset – I thought I had responded asking for the name of the restaurant, but the text failed to send. I actually happen to enjoy ramen very much.”

“ _Thank fuckin’ god. I was starting to seriously panic.”_

With no answer in mind, he hummed and took a second bite of his pastry, relishing in the taste of the almost too-sweet icing. If Ignis were ever to choose a religion, it would be one solely dedicated to sugar.

 _"So… Anyways, the place is supposed to have some good sake_ – _“_

Ignis had to hit the mute button when the danish lodged itself in his throat.

_“It’s called Ichiban, or something, on Madison-”_

Ignis felt a slow sinking feeling in his chest as he wiped away his choking-induced tears.

He wanted to get him _drunk_?

_“ – And my bud from the station was ranting about how good it was. I thought it’d be nice to go Friday night, if you're free."_

 “I do not drink.”

To say that his response was curt was an understatement.

Ignis frowned at his currently untouched second pastry. Suddenly, he had little interest in eating.

Gladiolus definitely picked up on the crestfallen tone in his voice, because he worked quickly to save face.

_"No, no, I'm not asking you to get shitfaced with me. It's more about the food and atmosphere of the place than the alcohol, I promise."_

He could almost see the earnest expression on the other man's face as he tried to prove his sincerity. Ignis would bet that Gladiolus's shoulders were stiff, and his brow was furrowed slightly with worry, like how he looked when Ignis was leaving him in the parking lot after their date.

He wanted to believe him, he _did…_

With a sigh, Ignis folded one arm over his chest and leaned against the seat.

 “Gladiolus, may I be frank?"

 _"Uh... Yeah, of course.”_ There was a guarded edge to his voice.

“I had fun with you, and, if I claimed I was not looking forward to seeing you again, then it would be a lie.” Ignis let his head fall to the side so it thunked against the door frame. “However… That being said, I have zero interest in _fucking_ – "

 _" **Whoa** , hey _– _"_

“Let me _finish_.”

Ignis bit his lip and closed his eyes, immediately regretting being sharp.

 “I'm sorry. I'm not angry, but…” he paused, rolling words around in his head before selecting something that would get his point across with minimal offense, “If you are looking for someone to get drunk so you can nail them in the back of your car at the end of the night, then I don't wish to waste any more of your time."

There was a pause, where the only sounds that could be heard were Gladiolus's gentle breathing on the other end of the line and the low rumble of thunder in the distance.

 _“I don't know what I did to deserve that, but, if I just wanted some tail, I'd take home some random twink at a meat market bar,”_ Gladio finally responded, voice low and laced with a hurt that made Ignis’s heart sink even further with guilt, “ _But I'm not lookin’ for casual sex, especially not from someone that's wasted."_

Astrals…

He overreacted. Again.

 “I'm sorry… You're right. You didn't deserve that."

 _"It's alright."_ Gladiolus sounded sincere, which only made Ignis feel worse.

“No,” he argued, “I have already been short with you _twice_ –"

 _“Ignis.”_ Gladiolus interjected, _“No one's perfect. Everyone’s got their issues. I fuss over other peoples' health, you're sensitive about sex. I understand, so don't stress over something that doesn't need to be stressed over."_

Ignis rolled a patch of loose gravel beneath his sneaker, feeling small and shitty for already having picked two fights with a man that had shown nothing but kindness to him.

_"Babe?"_

He snorted delicately. “Babe?”

Gladiolus chuckled, a deep, throaty, closed-lipped laugh that sent tingles down to Ignis's toes.

_"Sorry. Are you free today?"_

“I thought you wanted to meet on Friday?" Ignis looked over at the clock on the dash. “It's nearly one.”

_"Yeah, I just… I just really wanna see you right now.”_

Gladiolus sounded a little embarrassed, if not cautious.

_"We can stay in. I'd just rather be with you than talking over the phone and staring at my wall."_

Maybe it was because Ignis craved that warm, light feeling he felt whenever the other man was around, but he had to agree that he would prefer seeing Gladiolus over sitting in his room by himself. There was a sense of validation to Gladiolus's claims about not being upset, or offended, that came with the offer, too, and Ignis really, _really_ wanted to say yes.

There was one problem, though.

 “I need to get home to Noctis.”

Gladiolus clearly shared his sentiment, because he grumbled something under his breath and was quiet for a couple seconds as his mind worked to find a solution.

 _"This sucks,”_ he eventually sighed.

“Friday is not far away. Should I secure a sitter for the evening, you can see me then."

It was actually in only three days.

_"But I wanna see you **now**."_

Against the rather tepid mood that still lingered from his little outburst, Ignis's lips quirked upwards at the almost needy tone in Gladiolus's voice, “The best things come to those who wait, you know."

Gladiolus mumbled again, and Ignis suppressed a laugh with his wrist.

“You are obnoxious."

_"I'm lonely."_

“You're _bored_."

There was the sound of a door clicking open down the sidewalk and, after a few moments of shuffling, an employee from the organic juice shop appeared to lock the door.

“This will be a part of dating me, you know,” he gently reminded, “My availability will always have my son factored in, in some way or another. I will never be capable of immediately committing to plans, or going out for an impromptu midnight rendezvous.”

_“That’s fine.”_

The amicable energy Gladiolus’s voice carried in past conversations was no longer present. In its stead was the steady thrum of warm, confident understanding. Ignis wished that he would just give up and call it quits – save Gladiolus the hassle of dealing with his bullshit.

 _“I’m never gonna ask you to put me before your little boy,”_ he assured him, _“I just wanna get to know you.”_

Yeah… Ignis wanted to get to know him, too.

Another silence draped itself over their conversation, though this one was considerably more comfortable than before. Oddly enough, Ignis found himself rather content with just listening to the sounds of Gladiolus’s quiet breathing on the other end of the line. It was almost soothing, having someone with him like this.

_“You okay?”_

“I am.” He glanced at the clock again. “I thought you went to the gym in the mornings. Why are you up so late?”

Gladiolus groaned. _“I got no sleep at work so I passed out ‘soon as I got home. I woke up at, like, six.”_

Pfft. What Ignis wouldn’t do to be able to sleep, uninterrupted, for that long.

_“What about you? What’re you doing up?”_

“I just got out of work –“ He tried to keep his exhaustion out of his voice as his hunched position started to take its toll on his back. “I was about to leave before I drove home.”

  _“Oh, shit, I’ll let you go, then.”_

He really _did_ need to get home, but that didn’t stop the disappointment from brewing in Ignis’s chest at the idea of hanging up. He wished he was one of those rich guys in early 2000s movies that drove around with Bluetooth devices attached to their ears.

  _“Can I call you tomorrow?”_

“So long as it isn’t at _one_ in the morning.”

Ignis’s heart _may_ have fluttered at his chuckle.

 

* * *

 

When Ignis came home from work at four in the morning, there was _one_ thing he wanted to do.

That one thing did _not_ involve comforting his wailing son.

Exhaustion had long since settled into every one of his aching muscles, and his heels protested angrily every time he took a step, but that didn’t stop him from shifting his weight from one foot to the other, impatiently waiting for the bath water to warm.

Ignis would sit down on the toilet while he waited, but he couldn’t trust himself to not fall asleep the second he began to relax.

Through the thin wall, he could hear Noctis begin to choke on her own saliva from crying for so long.

His heart felt like it was breaking into a million pieces.

An evil voice in the back of his head whispered to him, insisting that his son’s suffering was his fault.

It had been _Ignis_ who refused to turn on the heat when it was in the thirties outside, choosing to instead bundle his son up in blankets to keep him warm.

It was _Ignis_ who was in charge of his nutrition.

He was his _father_ – he could have done _more_.

Realistically, he knew that fevers and illness were unavoidable; they were a part of being human. Even so, as he closed off the flow of water from the faucet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he had overlooked a part of his care that could have prevented this.

The heating unit rattled angrily behind the slatted door that kept it cut off from the rest of the apartment, as if mocking him for thinking he could get through an Ohio winter without it.

Slowly, as to not disturb him with a sudden onslaught of light, Ignis opened the door to Noctis’s bedroom.

“Alright, darling,” he cooed, “Come on."

As he had anticipated he would, Noctis whined and recoiled from the fingers that brushed the skin of his arm. The white blood cells in his body likely were going haywire from whatever he had come down with, so Ignis could only imagine how painful his body had become now that his fever was increasing.

Tears continued to squeeze past his long lashes, rolling down his reddened cheeks in beads of unalloyed misery, as he ignored his non-verbal protests and lifted him from the bed.

“I know, sweetheart, I know, I know..."

Every part of his heart _ached_ as he carried Noctis into the bathroom.

Poor thing, all he could do was cry and squirm while Ignis peeled his sweat-drenched pajamas from his body, which appeared to have stopped trembling from fever chills. Ignis doubted that turning on the heat had anything to do with that, though it was easy to assume that it was better than exposing his damp skin to the frigid winter air that leaked through the cracks of their apartment’s windows.

Noctis coughed again as his saliva tried to trickle into her windpipe.

Once he was finally naked, Ignis sat him in the lukewarm water and reached for the washcloth draped over the side of the tub. Kneeling on the tile next to him, Ignis murmured words of comfort and apology while he dipped the washcloth into the water to run it over his heated skin.

Showering was something his mother made Ignis do when he was younger, so, hopefully, this would actually help with bringing Noctis's fever down long enough for him to get him to the pediatrician's office when it opened at eight.

Either by a stroke of luck, or because his mother was right about showering when sick, Noctis had calmed significantly after about ten minutes of having the washcloth sponge tepid water over his body. Every now and then he would release a quiet sob for the sake of making it known that he didn't feel well, but he was no longer crying, or trying to avoid physical contact. Ignis took that as a promising sign towards recovering.

At least he looked like he was going to be able to get back to sleep, if his drooping eyes were any indicator.

Swaddling him in a towel like he was an infant again, Ignis balanced Noctis on his knee to unplug the drain before carrying him back to his room.

He felt like a Mud Monster from Goosebumps, his body made of heavy sludge so that each step taken required every ounce of energy he could manage to scrounge up. Groggy didn't even come _close_ to describing it.

How he managed to get Noctis into a new diaper and a clean set of pajamas was beyond him – his head too full of fog to process anything beyond how tired he was. Even his _pores_ felt tired.

So, when Noctis was tucked into bed after drinking some water, Ignis fell through his bedroom door and collapsed onto his bed, not bothering to so much as get under the covers, or remove his clothing that reeked of cigarette smoke.

Before his head could hit the pillow, the thrumming of his neighbor's music began to pulse through the walls.

Noctis began to cry again.

* * *

 

"Do you have an appointment with Doctor Elshett today?"

Ignis bounced Noctis on his hip and tightened his arms around his butt to keep him from sliding downwards again.

"I called at around eight for Noctis Lucis Scientia to see him at ten."

"Is Lucis a part of his first name, or is it his middle name?" the nurse asked, already turning her attention back to her monitor to, presumably, pull up a list of appointment.

Strung out like a piece of overworked taffy, Ignis fought to roll his eyes. “Middle.” Obviously.

The keyboard clacked noisily as the nurse's gilded nails, long and elaborately painted, filled in the fields of whatever electronic form was on her monitor. Soon, she looked up with a kind smile, sliding a clipboard over the counter.

Had Ignis the capability of producing much thought beyond what was explicitly necessary for his current situation, he would have wondered how it was possible to type with nails that were nearly as long as one’s entire palm.

“Alrighty, then,” she chirped, “All we'll need is for you to fill out this new patient form while you wait for the doctor to wrap things up with another patient."

"New patient?” Ignis echoed, “I have brought him here on several occasions."

The nurse's smile turned apologetic, but the kind of apologetic where you know they don't actually give a damn and only want to prevent a situation from escalating. “We have recently come under new ownership, so we have a new system that wasn't able to move previous patients over."

Ignis couldn't be bothered to be annoyed. Instead of complaining, he merely accepted the clipboard and took the liberty of plucking one of the gaudy flower pens from where it was resting in a cup full of plastic beans.

There were two doors to the pediatrician's office, one marked sick and one marked well, so he stepped through the proper door and set Noctis on one of the provided chairs.

A cartoon was playing on the CRT TV across from them, but Noctis was so bogged down by his flu that she took no notice of it.

"Daddy..."

With the clipboard balanced on his knees, Ignis leaned down to kiss the top of his head. He was no longer sweating, but his scalp was as warm as ever in spite of his best efforts to keep the fever down.

It looked as if Noctis wasn't the only one suffering; a mother and her son that appeared to be around Noctis's age were seated halfway down the row of plastic chairs, the son looking every bit as ill as he probably felt as he trailed snot over his mother's blouse.

Huh. A bug must be going around.

Ignis filled out the necessary fields in the form, which was as standard as one would imagine.

As per usual, he skipped over the insurance part of the form, thanks to him earning a whopping hundred dollars over the maximum for his household to be eligible for any government benefits, but not enough to be able to afford a private plan.

Funny how that works.

Leaving Noctis in the waiting room, Ignis returned to the desk to hand over the clipboard. The nurse gave it a quick once-over to ensure that nothing was left empty.

“So will you be paying out of pocket today?"

"That is correct."

Thankfully, this was one of the few offices that offered payment plans.

Another woman stepped up to the counter, and, despite her standing a full foot away, Ignis took a step to the side to avoid accidentally brushing shoulders.

"Thank you. Doctor Elshett will see you soon."

As soon as he opened the door to the waiting room, which was more window than door, Noctis's shrill whimpers met Ignis's ears.

For as exhausted as he was, and as much as he had been crying, a spike of adrenaline jolted his system into high alert.

"Noctis?"

“Daddyyyyyyyyy..." Still seated in the chair he had been left in, Noctis immediately began to weep at the return of his father. He reached up, tears streaking his already tear-stained face.

"I know, sweet boy, I know..." Ignis scooped him up, dropping into the chair and setting him in his lap, "Daddy's sorry that you don't feel well. It'll get better soon, I promise."

He smoothed his palm over his short, glossy hair in a vain attempt at bringing jim some comfort.

It was rare that Noctis came down with anything more than a case of the sniffles, which typically passed in little more than a couple of days, but, whenever he did contract some kind of virus, it did a damn good job at leaving him inconsolably miserable.

Helpless was the only word that could possibly describe how Ignis felt as Noctis, too drained to do anything other than moan into his shirt, sagged into his chest.

What he wouldn't _do_ to absorb all of Noctis's pain and endure it for him…

Few scenarios felt as terrible as watching your own child, the center of your entire universe, suffer in such a manner, while you could do nothing but wait for someone else to try to do something about it.

"Noctis?"

Ignis looked up to see a young man poking his head through the door to the waiting room, chart held against his chest.

Carefully, as to not cause any more discomfort than he was already feeling, Ignis lifted Noctis up as he stood to follow the nurse through the hallway.

Noctis did a spectacular job of being as fussy as possible while his vitals were being taken, squirming and flinching away from any attempt the nurse made to come in contact with him. Ignis sympathized with him, and did what he could to keep Noctis still, though, judging by his unwavering patience, the nurse wasn't even remotely phased by her refusal to participate.

It wasn't as if Ignis could really blame him, when he wasn't exactly a fan of being poked and prodded, either; he _did_ have to wonder where he was suddenly finding the energy to fight, however...

"His blood pressure's a little high,” she nurse informed him, “Has he been vomiting?"

Ignis shook his head, idly stroking Noctis's arm with the backs of his knuckles, "No, but he _has_ been sweating excessively – much more so than usual. I have been trying to keep him hydrated with water and juice, but when he doesn't want something..."He shrugged, feeling himself coming to the end of his rope.

Pushing sippy cups in Noctis's face was useless if he had no interest in drinking - leading a horse to water and all. And, given the fact that the nurse just had to channel his inner Steve Irwin to wrestle Noctis in order to just get his pulse, he figured that he got the gist.

The nurse scrawled the list of symptoms provided onto the clipboard, intermittently asking follow-up questions before leaving the two of them alone to wait for the doctor.

The last of Noctis's energy must have been put into his struggling against the nurse, because, by the time Dr. Elshett knocked on the door to announce her arrival, he had konked out in Ignis's lap.

"Good morning!” she greeted, chipper as always, “Did he fall asleep?"

Perceptive, wasn't she?

Ignis gently nudged Noctis's shoulder to rouse him from his short-lived slumber, rubbing his belly out of habit.

"Good morning, sleepyhead! Did you sleep well?"

When she reached out to pat his knee, which may as well have been the size of a quarter in comparison to her strangely huge palm, Noctis scowled and batted her hand away, twisting around to hide in Ignis's jacket.

The doctor looked less than surprised, smiling with detached interest while turning her attention back to Ignis. "So you think he has the flu?" When Ignis nodded, he continued with, “Well, he sure does have all of the tell-tale symptoms. I'll give him a quick look and then we'll run some tests."

She reached for a pack of gloves, pulling two free and snapping them over his gorilla-like hands before plucking an otoscope from his pocket.

Noctis's shyness was something of a stroke of luck, since, usually, the pointy black attachment scared the hell out of him; with his face buried in Ignis's chest like this, he couldn't see the instrument that Doctor Elshett used to peer into his ear canals.

By the time they were able to coax him into turning back around so she could look up his nose, Noctis was more interested in trying to reach for her leopard print bowtie, than being nervous.

The doctor frowned as she stood up from where she had been kneeling in front of them.

"Looks like he's developing an ear infection, too” he declared, “I'll be sure to prescribe something for him to take before it can turn into too much of a problem."

Sighing, Ignis leaned his head against the wall.

Of _course_ , a case of the flu wouldn't be enough to hamper the start of his week.

Doctor Elshett swabbed his nose, to which Noctis responded by grunting and pushing her hand away.

"I'll be back in a minute with his test results."

Every tick of the wall clock put emphasis on how boring it was to sit in the doctor's office and, in the time it took for the doctor to return, Ignis was dangerously close to taking a page from his son's book and falling asleep on the bench.

He worked for _fifteen hours_ yesterday.

"Well, it's definitely the flu. When did you say symptoms started to appear?"

"Yesterday."

"Huh…”

While he made no effort to elaborate, the doctor’s expression made it obvious that she wasn’t entirely convinced by Ignis’s response. “Anyways, I’m prescribing an antiviral medicine that you can pick up at your usual pharmacy in an hour or so. Follow the dosage instructions, and keep doing what you’ve been doing. He should be back to normal in a couple o’ days.”

Ignis hid his frown by pulling his phone out of his pocket and opening up his bank’s app. Much to his checking account’s dismay, Noctis’s pediatrician rarely prescribed generic medications; this was going to be a tight month.

“Are you all done?”

No, Ignis was just waltzing up to the counter with a sick child in his arms because he grew tired of talking with the doctor. What kind of stupid question was that?

The nurse’s long nails tapped against some keys to pull up his invoice. “Alrighty, then, your total for today will be one seventy-two.”

New management meant new _prices_ , apparently…

“Can I set up the same payment plan as before?”

Again, Ignis was met with drawn-in eyebrows and an apologetic half-smile.“I’m sorry, we no longer offer payment plans to patients who’re paying out of pocket. If you don’t have insurance, we can accept personal checks and credit card as payment.”

Something cold and slimy slithered around Ignis’s insides.

The availability of a payment plan was the only reason he had selected this specific pediatrics office over others in the area, because the option of spreading out the bulk of a doctor’s office visit had been the only way Ignis had been able to afford most of Noctis’s checkups.

Some quick mental math told him that, after tax, he would have all of six dollars left in his bank account if he paid for everything on the spot. Which meant he would have to use all of his tip money to cover the costs of Noctis’s medicine at the pharmacy, leaving nothing for the trip to the grocery store that would now have to be put on hold.

Still, it wasn’t as if he could leave without _paying…_

“Is debit alright?”

“Of course!”

It felt as if he were signing his life away.

How was charging one hundred seventy-two dollars for one flu test and five minutes of a doctor’s time even remotely considered to be _humane_? They’re _literally_ taking advantage of sick people.

Ignis huffed as he leaned through the rear passenger door to load Noctis into his car seat, ducking his head to avoid bonking it on the door frame.

Was selling kidneys still illegal?

Would he even be eligible to sell body parts with his history..?

Noctis’s cough snapped him out of his train of thought. He sighed again, taking hold of his little hand and rubbing his thumb over the back of his wrist.

“I love you, Noctis...”

He could do this.

He _could_.

 

* * *

 

 

“I am sorry, Ignis, but I won’t be changing my mind.”

“It’s a popular establishment! Are you, in all seriousness, attempting to tell me that you can’t afford to have me come in on Thursday?”

“I _am_. At the rate things have been going this season, I can hardly afford to keep the bar open on a weekday as it is.”

That was a lie, of course. Ignis never had the audacity to ask for the numbers, but he knew that his boss lived a very comfortable life thanks to her primary job. The bar, at best, was merely a front – her version of a drug dealer’s laundromat.

How much she decided to invest into the bar, however, was a different story.

A _tiny_ part of him could understand where she was coming from, though. Gay ski weeks were becoming more and more popular, especially when they were being held at popular ski paradises, like Niflheim.

Once, when they were readying the bar for a Friday open, Cindy had told him that the only events that caused a major dip in customers were major pride weeks, such as Altissia and Gralea Pride; nowadays, it felt as if _every_ weekend had something going on that was pulling their customer base away.

How they could go drinking every weekend _and_ go out of town for week-long parties was beyond Ignis. Did they not have jobs to go to? School to attend?

He bit his lip hard enough to taste the distinctive tang of copper on the tip of his tongue.

The manner in which Camelia lounged in her desk chair, filing her nails with disinterest, made it very clear that she was not even remotely concerned with his situation.

“Is there _nothing_ I can do?”

Her interest finally piqued, Camelia’s gaze flicked up to meet Ignis’s.

An uncomfortably familiar look of thinly cloaked avarice glinted beneath her false lashes.

Ignis stiffened.

“Not that.”

Camelia turned her attention back to her nails. “If your pride holds precedence over financial security, then I am afraid there is nothing I can do for you.”

The skin over his knuckles glowed white from being wrapped into tight fists, dull nails sinking into the flesh of his palms.

Ignis’s only options were to return to a life he escaped by the _skin_ of his _teeth_ , or get _evicted_?

Camelia paid no mind to his obvious distress, swiveling her chair around so she faced the pricey monitor on her desk.“If you have no other business with me, I would rather you return to the floor. I do not pay you to idle.”

Ignis had half a mind to grab the back of the chair and dump her on the floor out of spite.

Instead, he silently made his way to the door.

Once upon a time, Camelia had been a savior – the sole reason Ignis had been able to escape his former life.

Now, she was almost as terrible as Ardyn.

Funny how things turned out.

 

* * *

 

Two days later found Ignis sitting on the floor of his living room, hunched over his coffee table.

He stared hard at his checkbook, as if he could somehow intimidate it into rearranging the numbers into something more promising.

Next to him, a rapidly cooling mug of coffee sat long-forgotten among loose sheets of paper.

The knotted muscles next to his shoulder blade began to ache again, but Ignis made no effort to dull the pain with more acetaminophen.

The grand total for Ava’s doctor visit, flu medication, and antibiotics to nip her ear infection in the bud had eaten up both all of Ignis’s tip money and what little leftover cushion money he still had from the previous pay period.

He cleared the calculator on his phone and entered the same formula he had already entered a dozen times that night, praying that he had simply made a mistake.

At eight-fifty an hour, for five-hour shifts, three days a week, Ignis would pull in two hundred fifty-five dollars from his next biweekly paycheck from the coffee shop.

At Camelia’s bar, where he made minimum wage at eight-fifteen, for eight hours, three days a week, he was accruing one hundred ninety-five dollars and sixty cents.

Which meant…

He was still one hundred dollars short from making rent, which was due in seven days.

When he had approached Aranea for extra hours the day before, he had been shot down almost before he could finish his question.

Granted, he had been expecting it. It was a family-owned place that wasn’t exactly popular enough to compete with chains, so Ignis hadn’t gotten his hopes too high. And it was at least done with an expression that told him that she sympathized with his situation – unlike Camelia, who all but told him to go eat shit and die.

Still, sympathy didn’t pay bills. When it was all said and done, Ignis was out of luck.

Power and water were paid through the month, but that didn’t mean jack shit if they were going to be thrown onto the streets, or if his son went hungry.

_“If your pride holds precedence over financial security, then I am afraid there is nothing I can do for you.”_

Ignis screwed his eyes shut, a vain attempt at quelling his anxiety.

He flattened his palm over his belly, already feeling sick reaching for his cell phone.

Thumb hovering over the dialer, Ignis hesitated.

Just once, he told himself.

It would only be one time.

One time, to keep a roof over Noct’s head.

He called Ezma first, to make sure that his insomniac neighbor would be able to watch Noctis if he stepped out for a few hours.

Then, he called Camelia.

“Does your offer still stand?”

His voice shook almost as much as his hands did.

_“Show up at the usual spot at eleven. A client has been waiting for you.”_

The satisfaction in the way her voice purred made Ignis’s stomach lurch.

He knew which client she was referring to; it was the same one that always insisted that Ignis spend the night with him. He was a disgusting, clingy man that always reeked of cigarettes and cheap cologne.

Swallowing against his nausea, Ignis released a breath to steady himself.

He checked the clock. It was four-thirty.

“I will be there.”

When he hung up, Ignis sent a text to Gladiolus cancelling their dinner plans.

 

 

When Ignis entered the ornately-decorated hotel lobby in Insomnia’s business district, Camelia was lounging at the bar, one slender leg folded over the other. She sipped at a classic Metropolitan, which matched the shade of red that painted her lips, and surveyed the steady flow of visitors, likely searching for potential customers to approach.

Her lined eyes fell on Ignis, and she waved the bartender over to whisper in his ear.

From Ignis’s perspective, she looked like the serpent in the Garden of Eden.

As he approached her, Camelia produced a shiny plastic card from her bosom. “Your dear Caligo is staying in room six-oh-nine. He paid double for you, so be sure to show him a good time.”

The last part was uttered in a hushed voice, kept from the ears of others.

Ignis took the key card from between her manicured fingers with a begrudging word of thanks. While he no longer felt close to vomiting, he found it difficult to exert the energy for fake enthusiasm when it wasn’t needed.

Camelia needed him because he raked in more cash than her girls, and Ignis needed her because he couldn’t risk going to anyone else for this. If he got busted by a cop because his manager didn’t vet customers properly, it would be all over.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of a heavy white door marked 609 in gold-plated numbers.

Ignis bounced in place a bit, as if to physically shake away his anxiety.

He pushed all the cuticles on his nails back.

Tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear.

Tapped his jacket sleeve over his nose to blot away any excess oil.

Paced in front of the door.

Picked at the inside of his elbow through his jacket sleeve – where red and mauve scars dotted his skin.

When he ran out of ways to stall, he plastered on a smile and knocked on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGHHHHHHHHHHH.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. I know it's been a long time since I updated anything.  
> I just. Really have come to hate this fic, if we're honest.  
> Right after posting it, I had major regrets because it would've been so much better as a story with Ravus as the main character, but it had gotten too many follows so now I just feel stuck with it, I guess.  
> And translating everything is just... Tedious. I hate my own writing, and re-reading it all to swap out names and pronouns sucks.  
> I'm only really updating it because I know how sad I get when a story I like gets abandoned.

Ignis dropped the laundry basket onto Noct’s bed, next to the grid of cloth drawers from his cubby. One by one, he robotically distributed the smorgasbord of vibrant clothing into their respective baskets.

His phone buzzed with an incoming text from Gladiolus.

_are you ok?_

Ignis sighed, staring at the screen.

He thought about ignoring the text, like he had been doing throughout the week, but, eventually, decided it wasn’t fair to him.

Or, maybe, he was sick of dodging calls, only to listen to the voicemails Gladiolus left on repeat.

_I am fine._

His phone vibrated before he even had time to put the final pair of toddler leggings into the drawer.

_you havent been answering your phone_

_I have been working._

Ignis tucked the phone back into his pocket and carried a couple of drawers over to the flimsy cubby. As he started putting them away, his phone buzzed again.

 _ive been worried._  
is Noct ok?  
you sure everythings good?

Unsure of what to think of that, Ignis took a moment before responding. Was he actually concerned, or… Just lonely?

For a fleeting moment, Ignis considered being honest. Not so honest that he'd purge all of his troubles into lengthy text messages, mind you, but honest enough to explain that the last couple of weeks haven’t been as great as they could have been.

_can i call you?_

Shit.

Ignis’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard, too conflicted to type a response. Did he want to hear Gladiolus’s voice? Absolutely.

Did he want to have to verbally lie to Gladiolus? _Hell_ no.

Somehow, that train of thought ended with him opening up Gladiolus’s contact info and pressing on the call icon.

_“Babe?”_

“I am sorry for ignoring you.”

_“Oh. Uh…”_

Silence.

 “There was a pressing matter that needed attending to, and I ended up putting you on the backburner without warning. You didn’t deserve that.”

_“Hey, there’s something goin’ on, it makes sense that you’d have to sort out your priorities. Is everything okay now? Was that why you cancelled last week?”_

Ignis pursed his lips together and leaned against the wall, folding his free arm across his chest. How could Gladiolus sound so genuinely concerned for Ignis’s wellbeing, after being blatantly ignored for an entire week?

Again, the impulse to come clean made itself known, this time with more force than before. Ignis pushed it back.

“Yes. Everything is fine, though.”

For now, at least. Until Ignis found himself in another situation where he couldn’t pay his bills or feed the child he had _insisted_ must be born.

_“That’s good, at least. Just… Next time, can you just let me know if somethin’s up? Instead of just disappearing.”_

 “Of course. I am sorry for vanishing like that.”

_“It’s alright – I just wasn’t sure if something happened to you.”_

Uncomfortable with how long the attention had been focused on him, Ignis decided that the conversation was due for a change in topic. “Have you been well?”

_“Oh, totally. My coworker’s still out on maternity leave so I’ve been picking up a few of her shifts. It’s been pretty chill lately, so I’ve pretty much been getting paid to watch League with one of my buds. It’s fuckin’ great.”_

“Which station do you work at, again?”

_“Station 34. It’s the one on Ludlow next to Skyline.”_

“Ooh, I love Skyline.”

Ignis didn’t even _like_ hotdogs, but there was something about throwing an exorbitant amount of shredded cheese and chili on top that made it so much better.

_“Yeah? Wanna swing by and grab some lunch?”_

“What happened to ‘I take care of my body, Ignis’?”

 _“Hey, shut up,”_ he laughed, _“As much kale as I drink, I think I’ve earned a damn coney.”_

Despite being alone, Ignis pressed the tips of his fingers to cover his smile, “Well, pardon me. I hadn’t realized that coneys were such a hot-button issue for you.”

_“We live in Insomnia, babe – if someone turns down coneys for literally any reason, you can’t be friends with them. It’s the law.”_

“The law?”

_“Yup. The **law**.”_

Ignis pushed off of the wall to return to the living room, suppressing giggles the whole way.

“I suppose that means I haven’t any choice but to go out with you, since you are clearly such an expert on city laws, but I will have to bring Noctis with me.”

Hearing his name, Noctis looked up from the socks he was “folding.”

Read: bunching into balls and putting in a pile.

“ _That’s fine! I kinda figured that, anyway.”_

Ignis walked over to the kitchen counter for his wallet so he could see how much cash he had on him. Lunch would be inexpensive, but he would have to fill up his tank on the way over. “Noct, darling, are you getting hungry?”

Immediately, Noctis hopped to his feet and rushed over to where Ignis was thumbing through mostly one dollar bills. Ignis smiled fondly. When he was older, he would miss that bow-legged waddle.

“Is it luntime?” he asked, crystalline eyes alight with the prospect of being fed; Ignis could only assume that meant he was getting hungry.

“ _Hah, he sounds cute.”_

Heck _yeah_ , he was cute.

He was the cutest little boy to ever grace this planet, and Ignis would fight like Mel Gibson’s portrayal of William Wallace to defend that claim.

“Yeah, it’s lunchtime!” he declared, “Would you like to come get lunch with daddy and his friend?”

Noctis nodded enthusiastically and wrapped his little arms around Ignis’s leg, digging his chin into his thigh. “Luntiiiime!”

Lowering a hand to rub the back of his head, Ignis stuffed his wallet into his pocket and snatched the keys from the counter.

“I have to stop for gas, so I shall meet you there in fifteen?”

_“Perfect. Just enough time for me to put on my best dress!”_

Ignis rolled his eyes and told Noctis to go get a pair of socks from his room.

* * *

 

The drive to Skyline was tense, to say the least.

With every passing minute, Ignis’s mind managed to produce a new excuse to use to back out of the date.

Noctis vomited in the car. He got into an accident with another driver. His car broke down again. A dog bit Noctis in the parking lot, and he had to go to the hospital. Traffic was stopped. He had a flat tire. He failed to properly discharge static electricity before refueling his vehicle and blew the gas station up.

While sitting in his car at the gas station, waiting for the car in front of him to finish backing out of a parking stall, he almost used one, too.

Ignis had his phone in his hand, Gladiolus’s text thread open, but he couldn’t bring himself to hit send.

This was how he found himself standing outside of the restaurant, looking every bit as unsure of the situation as he felt.

He told himself that he turned his back to the parking lot to shield Noctis from the cold winter breeze that blew through, but it was actually because he hoped that not seeing Gladiolus meant he could get a way out of this.

Why would Ignis ever agree to just drop what he was doing to meet him here?

Ignis _hated_ impromptu plans.

Anything that didn’t allow him to carefully plan out every specific detail sent his anxiety into overdrive, which was something he was very much aware of, so why did he make the snap decision to forego folding laundry to get lunch?

With Noct, to boot!

Christ – Ignis didn’t let _anyone_ near him. _Ever_.

The only people who knew Noctis even _existed_ were his employers, because they ran background checks on him; the daycare workers; and Ezma.

“You cold?”

Like a goddamn magician, Gladiolus appeared in a puff of smoke.

Well, more like from across the street.

Either way, his sudden entrance made Ignis jump about three feet in the air. He whirled around, face tight, like a little kid who had been caught sneaking a cookie before dinner.

This time, Gladiolus did not offer him the luxury of pretending to be oblivious to his state of distress. “What’s wrong?” he asked, voice full of genuine concern.

“I’m –“ Ignis’s jaw snapped shut. “I’m just cold” was a lie, and he had promised to put a stop to blatant dishonesty. “Anxious.”

Without missing a beat, “Hi, Anxious, I’m dad.”

Ignis chuckled, though it lacked any real humor. It was just as well; Gladiolus didn’t look entirely proud of the joke either.

“You wanna go home and try this another time?” he offered.

Ignis shook his head, “I cannot blow you off twice in a row.”

Gladiolus shrugged and pushed his hands into the pockets of his department-issued windbreaker. “I’ll be disappointed, but I’ll live. It’s not like I drove an hour to get here or something.”

Ignis bounced the toe of his sneaker against the sidewalk.

Now that he had been given an out, he felt no desire to leave.

He twisted his mouth to the side, thoughtful.

“What if I want to stay?”

“Then I wanna get inside, like, right now so I don’t have to worry about my b – _fingers_ falling off.”

Those final words seemed to get stuck in his mouth, tumbling out awkwardly. It didn’t take a genius, or the hesitant way he looked at Noctis, to figure out why.

“Mhm,” Ignis hummed, “I appreciate your efforts towards shelving the coarse language.”

He spoke with sarcasm, but led the way towards the door. Gladiolus leaned forward to get the door for him.

They were met with the unmistakable dry warmth of central heating when they stepped into the waiting area, something that Ignis longed to have in his own apartment. Noctis also seemed to appreciate the change, as he all but melted into his father’s hold with a happy little sigh.

A waitress was waiting for them behind the register to greet them, probably having seen them standing out front. “Just the three of you today?”

“Yeah, and can we get a…” Gladiolus frowned, looking a little lost, and turned to Ignis for help. “Does he need a booster seat, or a high chair?”

Truth be told, Ignis had _no_ idea.

He knew that toddlers made the switch around his age, but he just kept using his high chair out of convenience. So…

 “Booster seat, please.”

The waitress took the hesitation in stride, already grabbing some menus for them and rounding the counter. “No problem!” she chirped, “You can sit wherever you would like, and I’ll be back with your booster seat.”

Gladiolus motioned for Ignis to lead the way, who selected a table against the wall. He would have much preferred to seat himself at the table that was shoved into a corner, far removed from the rest of the crowd, but it felt downright criminal to put such a huge person in such a cramped area.

Gladiolus shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of the chair across the table before sitting down. Ignis almost followed suit, but, after a moment of consideration, elected against it.

Recalling the way Gladiolus studied him with an unexpected keenness the last time they went out together, he wouldn’t put it past him to take note of the unsightly marks that littered his arms.

He… Wasn’t quite yet ready for that conversation.

“Here you go!” The waitress pulled out the chair next to Ignis to strap on the booster seat.

She accidentally bumped his shoulder, and he had to make a conscious effort to not recoil, even as his skin _crawled_.

He could have done this _himself…_

Of course, when she left to get their drink orders, Noctis had no intention of allowing himself to be removed from Ignis’s lap.

“Noct, sit in your big boy chair,” he chided.

Noctis predictably shook his head, twisting his body around so her face was hidden in Ignis’s shirt.

“ _Noctis_ …”

“Uh-uh!” He all but mashed his face into his chest, tiny fists grabbing his jacket in bunches.

With little regard for subtlety, a couple of customers from the neighboring table looked up from their chili burritos to eye them curiously.

Ignis attempted to peel the child from his front, but only succeeded in eliciting an annoyed whine. Noctis shoved his hands aside so that he could return to Operation: Reverse Chestburster.

Embarrassed, Ignis ignored the heat pooling in his cheeks and acquiesced for the time being.

“She usually this shy?” Gladiolus asked.

When Ignis found the courage to meet his lunch partner’s gaze, he noticed that he didn’t seem even remotely bothered by the toddler’s fussiness.

“I can’t say,” he admitted, “He plays with the staff and other children at daycare, but, otherwise, whenever we are in public, his attention is focused on me.”

“Huh.” Gladiolus sipped at his water. “Think if I get on the ground, she’ll warm up to me?”

Ignis blinked, confused, and Koloa flashed him a shit-eating grin.

“You know, like a cat,” he clarified, “If you get on their level, they aren’t as intimated as when you’re towering over them.”

Ignis rolled his eyes, but smiled nonetheless.

“Perhaps it is worth a try, but I would rather not have my date lying on the floor in a public restaurant.”

A playful grin tugged at Gladio’s cheeks. “Date?”

Ignis had half a mind to kick him under the table. The only thing stopping him was his own shy smile.

He turned their attention back to Noctis.

“ _Anyways_ , he does not meet new adults very often,” he explained, “He may just require more time to become used to being around you.”

“That’s fine. My sister’s kid used to get antsy around me, too. I think my tattoos freaked him out.”

Ignis started. “Oh, no, I don’t mean to say that it has anything to do with you –!”

“Babe, really, it’s fine,” Gladio cut in, “I’m, what, twenty times his size? And covered in a bunch of tattoos and piercings? It’d be weird if he _wasn’t_ a little nervous.”

Ignis frowned, eyes downcast.

It was beginning to feel like all of their interactions involved Ignis apologizing and Gladiolus trying to console him, and that didn’t sit well with him.

“Is your sister doing well?” he asked, more than a little ready to get the conversation off of him.

Thankfully, Gladiolus’s entire demeanor lit up at the opening to start gushing about his sister.

“Iris’s been pretty good. She’s been working a lot, though. I keep trying to invite her out on our days off, but she’d rather stay cooped up in her dorm and study.”

The waitress returned with their drink orders, briefly interrupting their conversation.

Ignis was tempted to let Noctis try a coney for the first time, but wasn’t sure how his stomach would handle the sudden introduction of hotdogs _and_ chili, so he ordered a plain hotdog for him and two cheese coneys for himself.

It was no surprise to hear Gladiolus ask for seven regular coneys and an extra chili bowl on the side, but Ignis still crinkled his nose at the toilet-related aftermath that was sure to come.

It didn’t matter if you made a habit of eating an entire pantry’s worth of food for every meal - that much chili _was_ going to take its toll at some point.

 “Someone clearly isn’t bottoming tonight…”

Gladiolus’s brows shot up. “What was that?”

Heat rushed to Ignis’s face, and he pressed his lips into a tight line. “Nothing.”

“Ignis, did you just –?”

 “No.”

Rough stubble scratched audibly against his palm as Gladiolus rubbed his hand over his chin, his grin wide enough for his eyes to crinkle at the edges.

It looked as if, to Ignis’s horror, he would try to keep the joke running, but, when his eyes fell to Noctis, Gladiolus just shrugged and reached for his water. “Mkay.”

An awkward silence fell between them - or, rather, Ignis felt awkward about letting the conversation come to a screeching halt.

Gladiolus looked completely at ease, though, leaning forward against the table with his chin in his enormous hand. A casual smile played on his lips.

A thought occurred to Ignis: “When do you have to return to the station?”

“Eh. Whenever, really. I got my radio on me, so I’ll run back to the station if there’s a call.”

More silence. Ignis nervously tapped his foot against the blue carpet.

He wondered if Gladiolus was being quieter than before because of Noctis.

“So…” he began, “I read an article the other day that women are being allowed on submarines.”

“Yeah?” Gladiolus must have picked up on his desperation for some kind of conversation, because he let his hand fall from his face so he could fold his arms over the table. “It’s been kinda happening for a while. I think they started introducing female officers in, like, 2010 or ‘11, but it’s been slow ‘cos people are dumbasses.”

He glanced down at Noctis and grimaced a little. “Sorry.”

Ignis waved it off. “It is alright. It takes more than half an hour to curb a habit. How were they behaving?”

“Well…” Gladiolus sighed. “Soldiers can already be pretty crappy to each other. Hazing’s not a huge thing anymore, but people in the military just kinda _suck_ , in general. Like, people treat us like we’re _above_ civilians – like we can’t do anything wrong – because of the stigma of living to a code. But it’s not true.”

Gladiolus frowned a little at what Ignis assumed was a lousy memory. Before Ignis could get a word in, he was back to talking.

“Anyways, when it comes to the women, apparently the _USS Angelgard_ got into some deep shit a couple years ago for recording some female officers in the shower, and stuff. I don’t know how long it went on for, but they only got caught a few years after they got to the boat.

"And, a few months ago, there was this huge scandal with Crownsguards and Glaives having a sorta _ring_ , where they’d share the nudes they’d get from their wives, or chicks off of dating sites. The MPs are ready to slap people with felony charges, and it doesn’t even break the _ice_ , because women are still getting assaulted in basic, and on deployments, and…”

The waitress appeared with two plates balanced on each of her arms like a circus performer, the bowl containing Gladiolus’s chili wobbling dangerously on the plate in her hand.

Oh, dear.

Before Ignis could worry too much about whether or not spillage could give his son major burns, she had somehow placed everything on the table, without so much as a shred of cheese floating to the table’s surface. “If you need anything, just holler!”

Yeah, Ignis definitely would _not_ “holler” in a public place.

He grabbed a thin butter knife from the napkin it was wrapped in to cut Noct’s hotdog and bun into small pieces. “So, you don’t agree with women being integrated into submarines?”

“Well, no, not _exactly,_ ” Gladiolus paused for a moment to gather his thoughts, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for the military to keep pushing it until they get all this crap sorted out. Same with trans people, too. They keep trying to make progress for the sake of equal rights, without having a _clue_ to how to protect them from people they’re supposed to be able to trust with their lives.”

Ignis reached for the ketchup, popping the cap off so he could squirt a dollop onto his son’s plate. Scooting his chair out, he started to pick Noctis up to put him in the booster seat. “So, what do you suppose they should do?”

“They need to slow down, for one,” Gladiolus immediately answered, “I’ll be the first in line to petition for more diversity in the army, but not if it’s gonna end up with more horror stories than successful ones. They need to find people who actually know how to train – not just send out _PowerPoint presentations_ to a bunch of captains who are too immature and dissociated from the issue to actually tell these guys how to act, what kind of punishments they’d get if they stepped out of line, and so on."

"It’s especially true for trans people, too, ‘cos when they were first adding women to the submarine fleet, all we had was a half-hour seminar that basically said “hey, don’t be a dick.” I can only imagine how badly they’re droppin’ the ball for educating and training service members in preparation for transgender troops.”

With Noctis safely secured in his booster seat, which was less of a hassle than earlier thanks to him being more used to being around Gladiolus, Ignis finally readjusted himself in his chair. He grabbed a handful of napkins from the dispenser on the table as a preemptive measure against the mess that came with eating a hot dog slathered in chili.

“Out of curiosity, then, what kind of experiences did you have to deal with for being gay?” he asked, legitimately curious, “If the Kingsglaive did such a poor job of educating sailors on how to adjust to having _women_ on board, I can only imagine what happened when don’t ask, don’t tell was repealed under the most recent administration.”

Gladiolus shifted uncomfortably, poking at the chili with a spoon.

“You needn’t answer if you do not want to,” Ignis reminded, with no small amount of understanding for certain subjects being off-limits.

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just…” Gladiolus’s nose wrinkled in thought, “I dunno. I never had any issues. I’m not _gay_ , and I only dated girls back then, so it never came up.”

Ignis looked up from the coney he held with both hands, blinking his alarm. He finished chewing before speaking up again.

“You are _straight_?”

Gladiolus made a face. “ _Hell_ no. I’m – wait, aren’t _you_ bi, too?”

Ignis shook his head, setting his coney down.

“Then, how did…” Gladiolus made a vague gesture towards Noctis, who was dragging a sliver of his bun over his plate to smear the ketchup around.

It was Ignis’s turn to look uncomfortable.

He tried to disguise it by turning his face towards his son, and brushing his hair from his face to busy his hand.

“I drank far beyond my limits one night, and, nine months later, I had a child.”

“But if you’re _gay_ , then how..?”

“Gladio, just because I am attracted to men, it does not mean women _repulse_ me,” he explained, perhaps with a twinge of exasperation, “I am just as susceptible to physiological responses to stimulation as any other human being.”

Gladiolus half-snorted, half-laughed into his chili, which he had already nearly completed. When did he even find the time to eat so much? Ignis only hardly managed to get through half of his first coney, and here Gladiolus was inhaling chili like his life depended on it.

“That was a weird way to put it, but, sure,” Gladiolus acquiesced, “So, where’s the mom now? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Without missing a beat, “The mother is uninvolved.”

“ _What_?” Gladiolus looked more than a little taken aback at the idea, “So, wait, she carried her for nine months, then decided she didn’t want a kid anymore?”

Normally, Ignis would have made some offhand comment that implied that Noctis’s mother was incarcerated, or a businesswoman that worked in another country, or some other situation that would make it clear that it wasn’t possible for her to be in his life.

He almost did, too.

The only thing that stopped him was the too-large of a bite of his coney that was making it difficult to chew. He used one of his napkins to cover his mouth while he used the time to think.

“I do not feel quite ready to tackle that conversation, if you do not mind…”

“Oh, okay. No problem. So, how old is he again?”

 “Twenty-two months.”

 “Okay, explain this to me.”Gladiolus, finished with his bowl of chili, pushed it to the side so he could pull his plate of coneys in front of him. “Why do parents always use months for babies’ ages? Why not just round up and say she’s two?”

“Because children go through more rapid developments in their first two years than later on,” he explained, thankful for the abrupt shift in topic, “Their vocabularies expand almost exponentially with each passing month, their reflexes and coordination improve week-by-week, and they experiment with independence in different ways. Referring to their ages in chunks of six or twelve months only undermines how much growth takes place every month.”

“So it’s pretty much the same reason pregnant ladies use weeks to say how far along they are.”

“For all intents and purposes, yes.”

“Does that mean he can talk? I heard him call you daddy over the phone before our first date, but can he say more than that?"

"Absolutely! She still struggles with her 'R's and 'ch' sounds, but she can say some three-syllable words already."

He turned to Noctis and patted her arm as she reached for a slice of hotdog.

"Noct, tell Gladiolus what you had for breakfast this morning."

Noctis eyed Gladiolus suspiciously, mouth tight.

"Noctis what did you eat this morning when you woke up?"

Noctis reached for Ignis's jacket sleeve.

"What did you ask daddy to make for you?"

"… Bloohberrhy toast."

Ignis _beamed_. It took every ounce of his self control to not bounce in his seat, even as his nerve endings buzzed in delight. "That's right! Do you remember what you ate for lunch at daycare yesterday?"

Encouraged by Ignis's enthusiasm, Noctis sat up a little straighter, head tilting to the side in thought.

“What did daddy put in your lunchbox?" he nudged.

"Cookies!"

"What? No! You had mandu for lunch – where did you get a cookie?"

Noctis giggled through closed teeth, twisting to and fro in his booster seat.

"Noctis please tell me you did not take from Prompto’s lunch _again._ "

"Noooo~!"

Gladiolus was nearly vibrating with suppressed laughter. Ignis ignored him. "Then where did you get a cookie at daycare?"

"Miss Luna gived us cookies affer naptime!"

Of course. "Noctis that is not lunch..."

Defeated, Ignis sighed and returned to the last half of his coney. Meanwhile, Gladiolus was red in the face and snickering into his water.

"Are you having fun over there?"

Gladiolus shook his head and used the water glass to hide his grin. "I dunno what you're talking about."

"Uh-huh."

"What's blueberry toast? And mandu?"

"The blueberry toast is what she calls French toast with blueberries on top. Mandu is just Tenebraen for dumpling."

After confirming that one of his daycare teachers had been teaching Noctis a few words here and there, Ignis had decided to follow her lead and try to shoehorn some of his mother’s language into Noct’s increasing vocabulary.

Most of it had to do with food, though, because he was _seriously_ rusty and the language was _hard_.

"You're Tenebraen?"

"Half. My mother is. My father was raised in the Citadel alongside my uncle."

"Oh, neat, neat."

By now, all three of them had finished their food – Gladiolus somehow managed to pack away every one of his coneys, with little more than a couple dollops of chili on his plate to stand as evidence of the carnage that had just taken place.

Ignis was mindlessly snacking on the tiny bowl of complementary oyster crackers while they chatted some more, trying to draw out their time together. He thought back to when they bumped into each other at the library, and the stack of books Gladiolus carried under his arm.

"What kind of books do you read?"

A flush appeared on his cheeks. "Mainly firefighting stuff –“ the words came out in an awkward tumble, “-Or stuff about the Navy."

Ignis raised a curious eyebrow. “So you only read non-fiction?"

The blush on Gladio’s cheeks deepened. "Is that bad?"

"Of course not! I am more impressed than anything,” Ignis praised, leaning forward, “I never had the patience for the pacing of most non-fiction or educational texts. I struggled in high school quite a bit because of it."

"Lemme guess: you were the teacher's pet in English, but failed everything else?"

He shook his head. “ _Au contraire, mon ami_. My father was intent on seeing me off to Yale the instant I graduated high school. I had difficulty grasping the material, but that only meant I had to work three times as hard to maintain a promising GPA.”

 “What did you graduate with?”

Ignis paused to meticulously select his wording.

 “When I left high school, I held a weighted GPA of four-point-two-nine and a number of college credits from acing AP and higher-level IB exams.”

 “Damn, Ignis! And you didn’t take that frickin’ Einstein brain to college? Why?!”

 “Because…”

He sighed. “Due to a momentary lapse in judgment on my part, I was unable to graduate high school.”

Maybe it was the tone of his voice, low and thick from Ignis having to speak through the lump in his throat, but Gladiolus didn’t push the issue. Instead, he reached one hand across the table to brush against the back of Ignis’s knuckles.

Taking the bait, Ignis extended his fingers so that their hands were loosely interlaced.

He bit at his own sheepish smile, feeling his chest expand a little.

Next to him, Noctis yawned. Ignis glanced at his phone; he was less than surprised to see that it was getting close to his naptime.

“Gotta get him home?”

Ignis nodded and put his phone back into his pocket. “I am afraid so.”

As Ignis stayed seated to unbuckle the strap over Noctis’s lap, Gladiolus rose to a standing position so he was towering over the two of them – like a mountain looming over two hikers standing at its summit.

Noct’s eyes, understandably, widened to twice their normal size at the sight.

They were glued to Gladiolus’s massive form, skittering over his body in what Ignis guessed was an attempt to assess the situation. Ignis noticed how his eyes kept drifting to the intricate pattern that twisted over Gladiolus’s arms.

“Mkay, gimme a sec to pay the bill, and I’ll meet you outside.”

 “Well, I still have to pay mine.”

“Don’t worry about it. I got it.”

Ignis damn near broke his neck, whipping his head around to offer a withering glare.

He should audition for the role of Regan MacNeil in future adaptations of _The Exorcist_.

“You most certainly do _not_.”

“Ignis. It’s, like, five bucks for the two of you. Don’t worry about it.”

“I am not going to force you to pay for food you didn’t even eat.”

He didn’t even ask if this was _okay_ with him!

“I’m _offering_. Coming here was _my_ idea, so it makes sense that I’d pay.”

“I can _pay_ for my half of the _bill_ , Gladiolus.”

Gladiolus’s brow furrowed, mouth twisted into a frown. “I’m not _saying_ you can’t. I just don’t want to bother the cashier with splitting up a ten dollar check.”

Ignis, still seated, jiggled his leg, mulling over his options.

After a beat, he pulled his wallet out and pushed a five dollar bill into Gladiolus’s hand.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He lifted Noctis from the booster seat and rushed for the door.

The cold bit at his and Noct’s cheeks when he stepped into the parking lot. Noctis buried his face in Ignis’s neck to hide from the frigid wind, but it snapped Ignis out of his bout of irritation so that embarrassment could float to the surface of his emotions.

Did he have to cause a fuss _every time_ Gladiolus tried to show a _shred_ of kindness?

Gladiolus had no idea how deep his issues with money ran, and hadn’t the faintest idea about how much he _hated_ being surprised, so there was no way for him to know that insisting on paying for lunch was doing cartwheels on a sensitive nerve.

In any normal situation, Gladiolus footing the bill would be considered gentlemanly, right? He wasn’t trying to flaunt his wealth, or trying to belittle Ignis for not earning the same amount of income as he did.

Paying for lunch was what normal people did on dates.

That was _normal_.

And… Ignis totally overreacted.

 “All set?”

Ignis finished buckling Noctis into his car seat before turning around.

“Just about. Thankfully, he is quite pliant once he has gotten some food in his tummy.”

He started to apologize, but stopped when, suddenly, Gladiolus closed the distance between them with three long strides.

Oh, wow, _okay_.

The smell of his body wash, something cool and spicy, was only just strong enough to get Ignis’s attention. Idly, Ignis wondered if it would linger on his clothes if they spent more time together.

Gladiolus leaned in –

Ignis braced himself, shoulders tensing up, lungs seizing, throat clamping shut –

He brushed his nose against Ignis’s forehead, right at the hairline, and let the hand not in his jacket pocket skim over Ignis’s.

“I’m really glad you came out with me.”

Ignis would have made some quip about how his standards must be low, but he was still struggling to _breathe_.

He wasn’t going to kiss him? Was that not what was happening?

Ignis stood stock-still for a very long moment, eyes wide and unblinking as he tried to assess the situation.

The hand holding his was just as textured and warm as he remembered.

It… Felt nice. Made his chest loosen up a little.

His hand lingered against Gladiolus’s for an instant longer before skimming up his arm, fingertips following the swells of muscle they came across, until Ignis settled over the crook of Gladiolus’s elbow.

Gladiolus’s hand relocated to his waist.

He further stiffened, but Ignis didn’t flinch away from the touch. The waist was… Safe, he decided. He tried focusing on acclimating himself to the sensation, to the weight of his palm and the heat emanating off of it.

It helped that Gladiolus kept his touch light. He didn’t necessarily _grab_ Ignis’s waist, or drop the full weight of his hand over him; it was more like a gentle, experimental gesture.

As if hearing his thoughts, “You want me to let go?”

Ignis inhaled deeply through his nose, enough to make his chest swell, then exhaled through pursed lips before shaking his head. “No, this is alright.”

“You don’t really seem alright.”

“I am merely… unaccustomed to… intimacy. Or… any kind of physical contact, honestly.”

“I’m sorry. I should’a asked, first.”

 “Yes, you _should_ have, but…” His hands glided further up his arms, to his shoulders, and did what he could to release the tension in his back.

It wasn't all gone – the muscle knot nestled against his shoulder blade still ached from being so tight – but even Ignis had to admit that he _was_ beginning to relax.

“I don’t particularly mind this,” he said honestly, “It feels nice.”

Gladiolus’s breath puffed against his hair, and he could feel his cheeks bunch with a small smile.

“Good. I’m glad.”

They stayed like that for a short while, merely enjoying each others’ presence. It was a pleasant change, feeling a kind hand, feeling close to someone.

Ignis’s thumbs were featherlight as they slowly rubbed back and forth over Gladiolus’s clavicle, and he sighed when Gladiolus allowed his hand to touch his waist just a little firmer, no longer half-hovering over his waist.

The added weight was actually welcomed now that Ignis was expecting it, and he let himself enjoy the feeling before addressing the elephant in the room that Gladiolus was so graciously ignoring.

He leaned his head forward to bury his face in Gladiolus’s windbreaker. With his hands still planted on his shoulders, and only one hand resting on his waist, it wasn’t really a hug, per se, but it was as close to one as Ignis was comfortable with.

"Gladiolus...” he started, not really sure of how to properly broach the subject, or why he felt the whim in the first place, “I… Am a mess.”

Gladio was quiet, but didn’t back away, so Ignis took that as a green light to continue.

“I am autistic - very, _very_ high functioning, but autistic nonetheless. I also have anxiety, which does little to help me in situations where I am already struggling to interact with those around me.”

A shaky breath.

“I no longer take medication for either, so they both run somewhat unchecked. They interact with _every_ _part_ of my life – committing to plans, managing money, selecting groceries for the week... intimacy…”

Ignis shifted, uncomfortable. “I did not mean to snap at you earlier, I was merely… I was caught off-guard and I just – _panicked_ because..."

He trailed off, green eyes glued to the asphalt.

Gladiolus bumped their noses together.

"Thank you for telling me.”

The toe of Ignis’s sneaker bounced against the ground. “I understand entirely if you would like to end things here.”

“Wait –”

“In fact, it would be better if we did.”

“Ignis –”

“You should be with someone that is a better match for you, and –”

“ _Ignis_ –”

“I have no desire to waste any more of your time –”

“Ignis, holy shit, please shut _up_.”

The hand on his waist gripped him hard enough to hold Ignis in place when he attempted to take a step back. It wasn’t enough to hurt, but it was enough for an inkling of uncertainty to slither through his gut.

When he found the courage to look up in surprise, Gladiolus’s expression was that of what could only be described as bewilderment, if not betrayal.

“What the fuck just happened?” his voice hadn’t dropped, but it was gruffer than it had been earlier, “Five seconds ago you were fine with me holding you, and now you’re saying you want out?”

What – no! That wasn’t what Ignis was trying to say at all!

“I don’t want to burden you…”

Gladiolus stared at him for a moment longer before a smile split across his face. It wasn’t the same thousand kilowatt smile that Ignis was accustomed to seeing, but it was better than the distressed set of his brow from before.

“You worry too much.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong.

“You just let me worry about me, mkay? I’m not the suffer-in-silence type; if something bothers me, I’ll speak up.” There was a pause and, when Ignis risked a quick glance up, Gladiolus was eyeing him with purpose, “Like people tryin’ to make decisions for me. _That_ bugs me.”

Ignis winced. Talk about being oh-for-two, today…

Hoping it would act as some consolation, he shuffled forward so he could place his hands over his chest in another not-hug.

“... I am sorry.”

The warmth of Gladiolus’s breath against his hair was kind of calming. “Don’t let it ruin our day.”

“I’m not, I…” Ignis just wanted to feel _worthy_.

But that was a can of worms that could be opened another day.

He stepped back, longing for Gladiolus’s touch as soon as it was gone.

“I have to get her home now. Thank you for lunch.”

Gladiolus looked disappointed, but didn’t protest. His hands returned to his jacket pockets, and the loose gravel crunched beneath his boots as he started walking backwards.

“Be safe getting home, babe.”

Before he got too far, though, Ignis gathered up as much resolve as he could and blurted out, “Let’s go out this weekend.”

Gladiolus paused mid-stride. “Huh?”

Ignis balled his hands into fists, fighting desperately to cling to what little courage he had in that moment.

“You work every third day, right? Let’s get dinner on Friday.”

Maybe it was the cold wind whipping at his cheeks, but he could have _sworn_ that Gladiolus’s cheeks adopted a shade of red, then.

 “Mkay. Where?”

“Have you ever been to Mi Casa?”

“That’s the Tenebraen place downtown, right? I’ve been there a couple o’ times.”

“I get off work at the coffee shop at four. Does meeting there at six work for you?”

Gladiolus waggled his eyebrows. “If it means you’re gonna keep taking control like this, I’m game for anything.”

Ignis rolled his eyes, grinning, and shook his head as he turned to open the driver’s door.

Fastening his seatbelt, starting the ignition, fiddling with his broken radio, and checking his phone for updates he knew he didn’t have took Ignis approximately five minutes.

Five minutes he spent sneaking glances at Gladiolus’s back.

It wasn’t until he crossed the street and disappeared inside the fire station that Ignis finally left the parking lot.

* * *

 

Damnit, Nyx, of all the days to show up late for work!

Ignis had planned the entire day down to the minute: get out of work at four o’clock sharp, pick Noctis up from daycare by four-thirty, get to the grocery store by four forty-five, get home at five-twenty, and be ready to go meet Gladiolus at five-thirty.

But Ignis hadn’t factored in his irresponsible hophead of a coworker, who didn’t show up to relieve him until a quarter past five.

Drumming his impatience into the steering wheel with his fingers, Ignis swore under his breath in three different languages before the light turned green.

His tires screeched into the tiny parking lot of Luna’s Daycare, startling a woman in a crisp designer pantsuit who was loading her son into an SUV that looked to be more expensive than Ignis’s entire existence.

 “Good afternoon!” Luna greeted, seemingly unphased by Ignis’s manner of bursting through the doors of her establishment.

“I am so sorry for being late. I know you close at six, and it is six-fifteen –“

 “Oh, don’t even worry!” Luna pushed a wayward lock of hair from her face, unperturbed by his tardiness, “We know there was an absolutely dreadful accident on seventy-five. We won’t be charging anyone for coming in late!”

Ignis didn’t take the interstate from work, so he had no idea that there had been an accident, but he wasn’t going to screw himself out of thirty bucks by saying so.

 “Miss Amy has the kids in the yard right now, so feel free to relax in the waiting area while I go get Noctis for you.”

Yeah, right. As high-strung as Ignis was right now, there was no way in hell he was going to be able to relax enough to actually appreciate a moment to catch his breath.

Instead, he kept his arms folded tight over his chest and tapped his foot against the dinosaur-print area rug; when the urge to click his fingernails grew to be too much, he balled his hands into fists until the pain was enough to distract him.

“Daddyyyyyy!”

Noct’s voice could be heard through the glass panes of the back wall before the daycare owner opened the door to let him in. He bolted for Ignis, arms raised and ready to be picked up.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy!”

Even if he was ready to put someone through a wall, there was an undeniable sense of relief at the sight of his son clumsily rushing towards him.

Ignis scooped Noctis up in his arms and promptly buried his face in his neck. He inhaled deep through his nose, allowing himself to immerse himself in his son before returning to the rest of his shitshow of a day. He smelled like fresh linens, sunshine, and that distinct baby smell that Ignis would surely miss when he grew older.

When he finally found the strength to come up for air, Ignis noticed Luna’s tentative expression.

“Is something the matter?”

“Um, kind of. Has Noctis been showing any signs of misbehavior at home?”

Alarmed, Ignis furrowed his brow. “No, not at all. Why do you ask?”

He didn’t mean to be one of _those_ parents, who insisted that their children were angels that never experienced bouts of querulousness, but Noctis honestly _was_ a surprisingly mild-mannered child.

Luna fidgeted.

“Well, I don’t want to call it a temper tantrum but, earlier, Noctis had an… episode during lunchtime.” She hesitated, or gave him a moment to let her words sink in – he couldn’t tell – before continuing. “He started crying and asking for you, then vomited and went into hysterics. My brother, Ravus, took him into the break room until he wore himself out, but he was inconsolable for fifteen, twenty minutes.”

Well, she was right to say that it wasn’t a tantrum – at least, not a normal one.

When Noctis threw a fit, it was only a minute or two of him stomping his feet and grumbling. He didn’t have total breakdowns like the one Luna was describing…

Frown smeared across his mouth, Ignis bounced Noctis on his hip to get him to look at him.

“Sweetie, did you have a bad day today?”

“Dealing with tantrums comes with the territory, but Noctis is usually so well-behaved that we were wondering if anything changed at home.”

“No, nothing that I can think of…”

Ignis redistributed Noctis’s weight to free up a hand. He stroked his inky hair, wiggling his fingertips to break through some invisible knots.

Luna sighed. “Well, he could just be getting to that age…”

As much has Ignis hated the label of the terrible twos, what bothered him the most was the idea of Noctis vomiting. If it was at lunchtime, did that mean that what he packed into his lunchbox was spoiled?

Time… _Shit!_

 “Thank you for letting me know, and I am terribly sorry for the hassle –“

“Oh, it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

“I really, really must get going. Have a lovely day.”

The last few syllables were spoken even as Ignis was walking through the door. He shoved his hand into his apron – wait, he was still wearing his apron? Why didn’t Aranea stop him before he took off with it? – and produced his phone from one of the pockets.

_“Hey, you!”_

“Gladio, I am so sorry – I know this is last-minute, but I cannot make tonight work. I had to stay late at work –“

_“Babe, it’s –“_

“– and had to take care of something at Noct’s daycare –“

_“Babe –“_

“and I haven’t had any time to go to the grocery store yet, and I still have to prepare dinner for him-“

_“Ignis. It’s **fine**.”_

“No, it is _not_. I was trying to show I was interested in you by taking initiative, and now I have _ruined_ it –“

 _“You haven’t ruined anything, babe. Unless there’s some giant meteor that’s gonna wipe us all out tonight, we can always go out some other time._ ”

Balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder, Ignis leaned over to help Noctis buckle into his car seat. “Are you sure..?”

_“I’m sure.”_

"Okay... Well, I need to get to the grocery store, so... I will call you later?"

_"Sure, sure. Drive safe."_

Ignis hung up, but didn't immediately put his phone away.

He took a moment to lean against the frame of the car, phone in one hand and the other rubbing at his eyes. He was tired, he was hungry, his left shoe was wet from Aranea dropping a pitcher of steamed milk on it, and he was very, _very_ irritated.

After a long, slow inhale to ground himself, Ignis shut the door and made for the driver's seat.

Noctis babbled for the majority of the drive, never staying on one topic for long before flitting to the next, like a bee moving from flower to flower. It wasn't as if Ignis was paying any real attention, though.

He was too busy fiddling with the wonky heater, which only spat out warm air in short bursts; hissing under his breath when another driver used rush hour as an excuse to cut him off; or tapping Liszt's _La Campanella_ into the steering wheel.

When Ignis was in middle school, his piano instructor had criticized him for being too impatient with Liszt's songs. Ignis had responded by accusing Liszt of being a maniac for making such complicated pieces.

In the hour it took for Ignis to get to the grocery store, thanks to traffic being backed up for all of eternity, his mood hadn't improved in the slightest. He grumbled all through the produce section and huffed his way through the cereal aisle.

At the apartment, Ignis pulled into his usual parking stall.

He settled back in his seat to stare at the wall of the building, with all of its cracks and gross mildew stains. Another sigh, and Ignis left the driver's seat to get Noctis from the back.

If he was lucky, he would be up for climbing the stairs on his own.

He opened the door, bent over to start unfastening his car seat –

"Noctis where is your bag?"

"I’onno."

It wasn't on the back seat, or the floor... Ignis checked the passenger's seat. Nope.

He retraced his steps when he picked Noctis up from the daycare.

He walked in, spoke with the owner, hugged Noct... who didn't stop at hid cubby first, like he normally did.

And Luna had been, appropriately, more concerned with Noctis’s meltdown, than retrieving his things.

In other words: Ignis left his lunchbox, blankie, teddy, diapers, and spare clothes at daycare.

Rather than screaming in an unholy rage he bit down on his lip, breathing through his nose, and counted to ten.

When his agitation subsided, he finished getting Noctis from the car and grabbed the grocery bags so that he had six on each arm, because there was _no_ way he was making a second trip.

The familiar moldy aroma of the stairwell seemed to be amplified from the brief rain they had earlier, but Noctis’s knack for mindless conversation made the trip go by a little faster.

"I eated pee-bee-jay for lunch!"

"Oh, yeah? What else did you eat?"

"Apple!"

"Apple? You had apple slices in your lunchbox?"

"Yeah! Geen apples!"

"Are you sure they weren't pears?"

"No, daddy."

A piss-poor excuse for a half-smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "Are you sure? Maybe daddy put pears in your lunch today."

" _Yes_ , daddy, I'm _sure_!"

"Alright, alright, what do you want for dinner?"

“ahmoodaisoo!”

Ahmoowhat? Ahmooraisoo?

Ignis’s brow crinkled in confusion. Was he trying to say omelette rice? When did he learn the Tenebraen pronunciation for that? Did Ignis teach him?

One of his daycare teachers was foreign, but he had never felt compelled to ask about her background; could _she_ have taught her?

Huh. Ignis definitely would not complain if Noctis picked up a few more things from her, considering he could hardly get by in a conversation in his mother’s native tongue...

By this point, they had reached their floor. Ignis twisted to the side to bump his arm against the door's push bar to open it. "You can't have omeu-raiseu for dinner. Daddy could not afford eggs this week, sweetheart."

"I want ahhmoodaisoo, daddy!"

"What about tofu? Daddy can make you some tofu nuggets and –"

"No! I want ahmooraisoo!"

" _Noctis,_ interrupting people is –"

"I want –!"

"Noctis did you not _just_ have it for dinner the other night? You cannot have the _same_ thing _all_ of the time."

"No, no, _no!_ Ohhmuhdai –!”

"God _dammit_ , Noct! I said _no!_ "

It was of little surprise that Noctis immediately burst into tears.

"No, Noctis no - I'm sorry. Daddy's sorry."

He dropped the groceries to lift Noctis from the floor and hold him tight, bouncing from one foot to the other on instinct.

"I know, I know, daddy is sorry. I got real loud, didn't I? Daddy did not mean to scare you, darling."

This day sucked. Every part of it just fucking _sucked_.

The customers sucked, traffic sucked, his plan being ruined sucked, his grocery bill being just one dollar less than what he had in his checking account sucked, leaving Noctis’s things at daycare sucked, working on two hours of sleep sucked, being wet from the rain at the grocery store sucked, _Ignis_ sucked, everything just _sucked_.

For the second time that day, Ignis buried his face in his son's shoulder and screwed his eyes shut.

"I'm so sorry you were born to such a shit father..."

He stayed like that long after Noctis had calmed down, despite the distinctly repulsive air of the hall.

Noctis’s fingers relocated to the nape of his neck, where they burrowed into his hair, gently tugging and twisting at the still-damp locks. He turned his face to press kisses to his silky smooth cheek.

“Daddy’s hair is wet.”

“Mhm. We got rained on at the grocery store, remember?”

“Yeah.”

Of course he would. Noctis only spent five minutes trying to splash around in the puddles, the evidence of which was a light splattering of dirt on his shoes and pants.

“Ready to go inside?”

“Uh-huh. I’m hungy, daddy.”

“Alright, but I need my hands.”

Reluctantly, Noctis allowed Ignis to guide him back to the floor so he could unlock the door and pick the groceries back up.

As per usual, Noctis took great delight in helping his father with putting the groceries away, the omurice incident already a distant memory in his mind.

He hopped up and down on his Big Boy Stool to put the loaf of bread next to the date and walnut oatmeal and carefully slid the eggs onto the bottom shelf of the refrigerator while Ignis patiently held the door open for him.

It actually took much longer than if Ignis were to do it on his own, because Noctis had to be extra careful not to drop anything, but watching him get so excited about helping was too cute. Besides, the activity was probably good for his development.

He still felt antsy, though.

Ignis’s day continued to weigh down on him, pricking at his nerves like thousands of tiny metaphorical needles. He looked at his phone, which sat on the counter next to his wallet and keys.

He snatched his cell from the counter and, without giving himself a chance to second-guess anything, opened up Gladiolus’s contact information.

The fact of the matter was, Ignis wasn’t satisfied with his life.

All he did was work, work some more, take care of Noctis work more, and do housework.

At no point did he _ever_ have _anything_ to look forward to, and it had long since begun to eat away at him, and Ignis was self-aware enough to understand that he wasn’t happy.

Gladiolus offered conversation and stories – there was always something new with him, and damn it all if Ignis was going to lose that giddy feeling by succumbing to his shitty day.

One ring, two –

_“Iggy?”_

"Would you like to get some pizza?"

Ignis could almost _hear_ Gladiolus’s ears perk u- like a puppy who had just heard his food bag being shaken. _"Really?"_

He rolled his eyes and picked up his double-fold from the counter, "No, I am asking so I can dangle the prospect in your face as a joke.”

 _“No, yeah, totally! If you want, text me what you like and I'll order it,”_ Gladiolus offered, _“We can eat it here – or at your place, or whatever_ – _and I promise only to make fun of you a little if you’re one of those bastards that ruins pizza with anchovies."_

Ignis laughed surprisingly loudly and thumbed through his cash before seeking out a coupon he knew he had stashed in a drawer. "I can assure you that I do not enjoy anchovies on my pizza. And I would prefer if we ate at your apartment, if you don’t mind. Would you like for me to bring anything?”

He glowered at the coupon. Expired.

_“Nah, unless you wanna show me what the crème-dey-luh-crème of crime shows is, since you’re such an expert.”_

“For the love of God, Gladio, it is _crème de la crème_. Do you make a point of butchering languages, or do you just enjoy watching me squirm?”

_“Pretty sure there are much more fun ways to make you squirm than putting myself out there for a lesson in idioms.”_

“I am surprised the word idioms has a place in your coarse vocabulary.”

_“You’re gonna be **real** surprised when I put my dick in your mouth for being such a pretentious motherfucker.”_

Ignis hummed, about the best he could do to keep himself from laughing and encouraging Gladiolus’s behavior.“You truly are a romantic, aren’t you?”

_“You caught me. I’m actually Nicholas Sparks.”_

“Quit being obnoxious and go order pizza before a hole forms in my stomach.”

Briefly, Ignis wondered if the effect Gladiolus’s laugh had on him would ever fade.

_"Alright, drama queen. See you soon."_

Ignis spent the next several seconds biting his smiling lips between his teeth as he stared at his phone.

There was something almost… Exciting, about acting on a whim.

Ignis was so used to thinking into everything that happened, and meticulously noting each and every detail to anything he did, that he found a bounce in his step at the prospect of an impromptu pizza date.

What a turn of events.

Eventually, he was able to pull himself together long enough to shoot out a text with his pizza preferences and call up Ezma to ask her to watch Noctis – a perk of having a homebody for a neighbor.

Thankfully, breading tofu took little to no effort, so Ignis was able to prepare his son’s dinner in just a few short minutes.

He scrawled down some instructions on a pad of paper he used for grocery lists and left it by the stove before poking his head into Noctis’s room.

He was going to let him know that he would be stepping out but, sleepy from a long day of excitement at the daycare, Noctis had taken it upon himself to designate his free time as naptime, and had curled up on top of his bed to sleep.

Well, that made things easy. Ignis rushed into his bedroom to get ready.

Yanking some clean jeans off of a hanger and grabbing a t-shirt that hung a little too loosely off of his frame, he made a beeline for the bathroom for a quick shower.

It wasn't as if he expected this to be a scenario that required him to be on his A-game, but his hair hadn't been washed in three days, and the collective heat from the various coffee machines and toaster ovens left him feeling rather grimy.

There was another clash of thunder, and Ignis briefly wondered what the chances were of him getting electrocuted if lightning hit the apartment. Was that still an issue that buildings faced in the twenty-first century?

Oh, well.

Once he was clean, dressed, and groomed into looking as presentable as he could manage, then came the matter of finding a show to watch.

Ignis wasn't by any means a critic, and only justified purchasing a DVD when they were in a bargain bin after a good night of tipping, so the titles available from his personal collection were less than desirable.

Having no idea what kinds of shows Gladiolus enjoyed didn’t exactly help matters.

His phone buzzed with a text from the man of the hour. It was a picture of two pizza boxes stacked beneath what looked like three boxes of sides with the caption _hope you're hungry._

Goodness, the stomach on that man.

It was kind of endearing, once he stopped trying to imagine himself fitting that much food into his belly.

Ignis offered a quick response and turned back to his small media collection, eventually deciding to just use Gladiolus’s game console to stream a title he knew was still available.

When Ezma appeared on his doorstep, Ignis wasn’t given a chance to react before Shirley was grabbing his arm to tug him close. “Heavens, Ignis, you’re worse at shaving than my husband. Come, come.”

She licked her thumb and rubbed it over the spot on his neck that he had nicked.

The feeling made Ignis want to puke.

“Now, what has you running out tonight? Isn’t it a bit early for work?”

Ignis shifted. “I… have a date.”

Ezma’s penciled-on eyebrows climbed up her forehead, and Ignis felt himself start to turn red in the face when she smiled knowingly and cooed, “Oooh, a _date_! Well, don’t let me keep you – just make sure to thank whoever this fella is for me. It’s about darn time you got out of the house.”

“Wait – how did you know it was –?”

“I have been a mother long enough to know these things, dear. Now, get going! Shoo! Shoo!”

Ezma scurried through the door and around Ignis so that she was standing behind him – moving surprisingly fast for a tiny woman her age – and started patting his back to usher him into the hall.

“W-wait!” he yelped, anxiety climbing as he wiped the wet spot on his chin with his shirt sleeve, “Noctis has yet to eat dinner. There are instructions next to the oven–”

“I can handle feeding your little boy,” she insisted.

“But do you need anything while I am out? I can stop at –“

“Quit worrying about an old bag like me, and _go have fun_.”

Ignis would have taken the time to make sure that she _actually_ didn’t need him to pick something up, but the door to his apartment had closed before he could get a word in edgewise. The lock clicked.

“Uh, Ezma?” he called, “I need my keys…”

And phone, and wallet. Ignis could hear her huff on the other side of the door, then the jingle of his keys.

“Here you go, honey.”

“Thank –“

The door shut again.

Well, at least she was happy for him…

What had started out as a general spring shower had turned into a torrential downpour by the time he made it to his car, and Ignis found himself regretting the damage he had inflicted on the jacket his mother had purchased for him beyond any chance of repair.

It was the type of jacket that was thick, but not heavy, and had done a fantastic job at preventing rain from seeping through to your clothing.

As it was, however, Ignis was half-soaked as he slid into the driver’s seat of his hooptie. When he finally made it to Gladiolus’s apartment building, he was drenched almost completely through.

"Holy shit, babe, did you fall in a _lake_?"

Gladiolus reached out to gather Ignis up in his arms, whose upper body was now quickly turning into an icicle.

His car’s heater decided to go on the fritz again, so Ignis had no qualms with being pulled into an embrace. Gladiolus was as warm as he was large, and his body heat was more than welcomed by this point.

"Towel. Please,” he muttered when they pulled apart.

Ignis shrugged off his jacket so he could make an attempt at wringing it out while Gladiolus went in search for a couple of clean towels, but the shirt clinging to his torso was still going to be a problem as rainwater continued to pool around his feet.

Thankfully the rain was much kinder to his lower half, which was only a little damp in the front and on the sides. The worst of the damage was from sloshing around in rain puddles, so Ignis just rolled up the bottom of each leg into cuffs around his ankles.

At least he didn't put too much effort into his appearance this time around…

Five minutes later, Gladiolus returned to the lobby with the biggest, fluffiest towel Ignis had ever seen.

"How'd you even _get_ this wet? It’s not even raining that hard."

"It was earlier.” He raised the small plastic bag that was sitting at his feet. “And stopping at a convenience store with no awning did not help matters.”

Even if they were pretty short distances, walking to and from a car multiple times in the middle of a rainstorm was enough to turn him into a drowned kitten.

Gladiolus frowned and guided him to his floor with Ignis’s jacket in hand. Maybe it was because he was still so new to being around Gladiolus, but he couldn't help but take notice in just how small and almost fragile his wrist looked as he was led inside by the hand.

Having adopted more of his father’s Insomnian genes than his mother’s Tenebraen meant that Ignis already had a pasty complexion, but it had paled even further from the freezing rain and was almost completely washed out by the deep tan of Gladiolus's.

It seemed to put even more emphasis on just how different they were, both physically and mentally.

The familiar boyish grin was back on Gladiolus's face in the short time it took to get to his apartment, where Gladiolus hung his jacket on the – holy shit, people still used coat racks?

In the kitchen, Ignis had to suppress a giggle when Gladiolus wiggled his eyebrows and opened the first pizza box, presumably the one with toppings he had requested, with as much flourish as he could manage.

It was like they were polar opposites.

Ignis liked that.

Just as soon as it appeared, the smile he flashed faltered when he watched Gladiolus return to the door and reach for the lock on the handle.

"Uh… Would you mind terribly if you kept it unlocked?" he asked, already fidgeting.

He tried to hide the small burst of anxiety that jolted through his system. Having the door closed was one thing - it wasn’t as if he planned on propping it open during his stay - but there was something that felt almost trapping about the idea of having it locked from the outside world.

Ignis didn't even realize that he had been twisting the hem of his still-wet shirt until the other man shrugged and dropped his hand from the handle.

“No problem. Just habit." He gestured at the stack of pizza boxes on the counter, sitting next to a roll of paper towels and two plates. “The one on top is yours, but you can have as much as you want from the rest. I kinda like to order a shit-ton and pick at it. Do you wanna hang up your clothes to dry?"

Fighting the urge to grimace at the idea of sitting around in just his trunks, Ignis combed through his sodden hair, which had been knotted by the rain, with his fingers.

"I would much rather not be naked _and_ damp.”

Gladiolus nearly guffawed, dropping to dig through a basket of laundry that had yet to be folded. "I wouldn't make you sit around in your _underwear_ , Ignis,” he scoffed, “My stuff probably won't fit you, but it's warmer than a wet shirt that's already thin enough for me to see your nipple ring poking through."

Heat flared in Ignis's cheeks. He instinctively crossed his arms over his chest to cover himself, glancing down to discover that his current chilled state was doing him no favors in the decency department.

_Astrals preserve me…_

A few long moments of mortification later, he managed to croak out, "A shirt would be nice."

Gladiolus laughed and produced a dark blue pullover and some grey sweats, presenting them to Ignis and laughing again when he snatched them out of his hands.

"Bathroom's up the stairs, at the end of the hall.”

By the time he scampered out of the room and peeled out of his drenched t-shirt, Ignis managed to get his flaming cheeks under control as he looked at himself in the mirror.

There was a soothing relief that came from slipping Gladiolus's soft hoodie over his head. It nearly dwarfed him, hanging down past his butt in a way that almost made him resemble a teenager.

When he ruffled his drenched hair with a towel so he could start properly combing out the knots and clumps, though, he came to a screeching halt.

What was he _doing?_

Dumping his son on Ezma for something as frivolous as _pizza_ , holing up in Gladiolus's apartment, wearing Gladiolus's _clothing?_

The anxiety from earlier started to creep up Ignis's throat.

His chest felt like a vacuum seal bag that just had all the air sucked out of it, and he had to use both hands to stabilize himself against the bathroom counter as the room began to spin.

He looked back at his shirt, which was slung over the shower rod. He should just put his shirt back on, pay whatever he owed for the pizza, and leave.

He shouldn't have let this happen.

It was too much, too fast.

He only met Gladiolus maybe three months ago –

But then he reached out for his shirt, grasping the icy fabric with his fingertips, and Ignis realized that he didn't _want_ to leave.

He was just _scared._

He was scared to return to enjoying himself with the first person that had made him feel warm and happy in so _long_.

He was scared of getting hurt again.

And fuck it all if he wasn't scared of walking out that front door and never seeing that cheery lopsided grin in the same light that he did now.

He took a few long breaths to calm his nerves, clutching the fabric over his chest as if it would bring his heart rate back to a normal speed.

_"Everyone's got their issues."_

_"No one's perfect. I fuss over other peoples' health, you're sensitive about sex. I understand, so don't stress over something that doesn't need to be stressed over."_

Ignis laughed sardonically at his reflection (or, rather, huffed at himself with a roll of his eyes) when Gladiolus's words echoed in his head, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw red and yellow starbursts.

This was ridiculous. He was psyching himself out over nothing.

Gladiolus gave Ignis a curious look when he finally stepped back into the kitchen, quickly dropping something into a drawer like a kid that almost got caught with a porno mag. The mountain of cardboard had been placed into a line, every box open except for one.

"Did you fall into the toilet?"

Ignis rolled his eyes.

"I left my shirt to hang in the bathroom, if that is alright?"

With a nonchalant shrug, Gladiolus looked back down at a box of chicken wings to fill up a second plate, but the relief in his expression didn't go unnoticed. "Did you pick anything to watch?”

“I did. I don’t own a physical copy, however, so we will have to stream it from your console.”

Ignis leaned over, reading the labels of the stacked boxes for his pizza. "How much do I owe you?"

There was no total on the labels.

"Don't worry about it – oh, uh…" Gladiolus pulled open one of the smaller boxes, which contained a small blueberry pie cut into wedges."You have a sweet tooth, right? Is blueberry okay? I wasn’t sure if you just liked it on French toast, so I just kinda wung it."

Ignis frowned at the man next to him as he handed him a plate of pizza. "This was my idea. I should pay."

Still, he all but undressed the pie with his eyes.

"Also, thank you.”

“I ordered way more than you can probably even eat,” Gladiolus pointed out.

His frown deepened. "But... "

Gladiolus reached out with one hand to brush the drying bangs out of Ignis’s face.

“You won't owe me anything if I foot the bill. Mkay? My family didn’t have a lot of money when I was kid, so being able to buy stuff for someone else has always been kind of a big thing for me.” He scrubbed a palm over his chin, following through the motion by scratching the stubble that shadowed his jaw. “Paying for food, or getting someone gifts for no reason, is just kinda how I show affection.”

But it wasn’t _about_ owing him –

Okay, so part of it (a lot of it) was about owing him something for his kindness, but why was he so darn _adamant_ about this?

The plate in his hands suddenly became very interesting, and Ignis lowered his gaze to take in every detail in the steaming pizza slices.

Oh. Right. This was what dates did.

But wasn’t that just something that happened in hetero relationships?

Did the same thing apply to scenarios between two men?

Was Gladiolus treating him like a woman?

His silence must have begun to bother Gladiolus, because he scratched at his tattoo with a sigh.

“Seven bucks,” he mumbled, “That’s how much it was.”

Ignis responded with a demure shake of his head.

There he was.

Ruining everything.

Again.

“No, it… It is not that big of a deal.”

At least, for normal people.

“It is if it bothers you.”

_It bothers me because I am taking advantage of you._

With his plates full of wings and pizza, Gladiolus led him back to the living room to drop into the sofa with a satisfied sigh.

If the addition of a few bills in his wallet bothered him, he didn’t let it show.

When they were properly settled into the cushions, Ignis’s back rigid with a rising tension, he set his plates on the coffee table and looped an arm around Ignis's shoulders.

Gladiolus pulled him in close enough so that his nose was nestled into his damp hair.

"I’m really glad you came over, by the way.”

They parted so they could eat their rapidly cooling food, with Gladiolus handing over the clunky black controller so Ignis could pull up the pilot episode of a show about the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.

"This is one of those shows where you have to be paying attention, so I hope you are not the type to repeatedly glance down at your phone to check social media.”

Ignis cracked open the bottle of water that he picked up from the gas station to wash down the pizza slice, dropping the crust back onto the plate. Gladiolus frowned at that.

“Babe, if you're one of those people that don't eat the crust, we're gonna have a problem."

He made a face and picked up his second slice. "First of all, I refuse to hear a _peep_ from someone that eats monstrosities like _that_ –“ Ignis motioned at the slice of a disaster of a pizza that Gladiolus was biting into. “Second of all, I save the crusts for last. They are like free breadsticks."

" _Monstrosity_? You wound me."

"Gladiolus, that looks like something the host of _Fear Factor_ would make a contestant eat."

"You're being dramatic.” Gladiolus picked up a piece that had yet to have a bite taken out of it and lifted it up to Ignis's face. "Try it."

His face twisted into an expression of half-fake disgust. "Out of the question.”

Gladiolus bumped it against his lips, "C'mon. Just the tip."

Ignis snorted, turning his face away and wrangling with a grin that threatened to break his snooty façade. “You are obnoxious.”

"That's the second time you've called me that today. I'm gonna start up a swear jar just for you."

Ignis eyed the pizza slice that was still hovering in front of his cheek. It was on a thin crust with barbecue sauce instead of normal marinara, light cheese, chicken, tomatoes, pineapple, jalapenos, pimientos and black olives.

Under no circumstances would he ever even consider throwing those things together and try to call it pizza, but the expectant look in Gladiolus's gaze told him that this was clearly a very normal thing for him.

Eventually he sighed, if a little dramatically for show, and turned his head to take a mouthful of the catastrophe that was next to his face.

It… Was not good.

It started out alright, really.

The pizza crust, cheese and barbecue sauce didn't taste too strange at first – it was just when the tangy, sweet vegetables joined the fray that everything went awry, though thankfully he didn't get a mouthful of jalapenos.

What only made it worse was the fact that, apparently, Ignis didn't bite all the way through the cheese to separate it, because nearly half of the slice slipped off of the crust to whack him in the chin with an indecently loud _slap._

While Gladiolus began to almost vibrate with suppressed laughter, something he earned a very sharp glare for, Ignis reached up with both of his hands, one to catch the toppings from tainting the pizza slice in his lap and the other to tear the cheese apart into something that he could actually chew.

"I'm so sorry, but-“ Gladiolus reached over for the wad of paper towels he set on the nightstand, still laughing hard enough for tears to form in his eyes. "Ignis – God – you look like a little kid who just got put in timeout."

If looks could kill, Gladiolus would have been buried six feet under when he was hit with a new wave of roaring laughter.

Ignis promptly wiped the sauce off of his chin, dropping the excess wad of cheese and toppings onto his plate, and wiped at his greasy fingers before chucking the dirtied napkin at the man that had a hand slapped over his mouth to keep quiet.

"That is literally a _cardinal sin_ against the culinary arts,” Ignis grumbled, unable to hide the grin that tugged at his lips now that the mortifying experience was over, “I hope you are proud of yourself."

Gladiolus, having pulled himself together enough to manage conversation, wiped at his eyes.

"Ah, well, I tried…" He glanced up at the television. “I have no idea what's happening."

Rolling his eyes, Ignis was beginning to understand why exactly he wasn't able to figure out the plot to _CSI_ , “I told you to pay attention!"

"Don't even care. Worth it.”

Ignis spent the next couple of minutes explaining what happened since they stopped watching the episode, explaining the concept of the BAU and criminal profiling that the show was based on.

He then had to explain the “extreme aggressor” strategy for Go, because Gladiolus had no idea what the game was.

The problem was that Gladiolus insisted on looking at him while he talked, which meant he missed more, which was forcing Ignis to essentially give a play-by-play.

Finished with his pizza, Ignis set his empty plate on the coffee table and finished off his tea. “Just watch, and you will understand.”

Gladiolus scooted his butt down a bit so he could rest his feet on the coffee table.

"I'd rather hear you explain it."

"I would rather you just watch."

"I'd rather you not be so mean to me."

Ignis snorted.

The conversation died off there, and the two were left in a comfortable silence as they watched the team bounce ideas off of each other.

It was a similar silence to the one at the restaurant, one that didn't hang in the air or feel like there was empty space between them, and Ignis eventually scooted down like Gladiolus did so he could lean against his shoulder.

It was faint, but he could still smell the spicy-scented body wash Gladiolus used in his shower this morning. Ignis was beginning to feel like it was befitting of a man that could go from cheery and raucous to intense and solicitous on the turn of a dime.

He turned his face down to watch the tip of his finger trace the intricate tattoo that extended past his elbow, his dark eyes following each swirl and sharp angle.

Ignis had read online that getting sleeves were an absolute nightmare in the pain department - especially over the elbow - and were almost always staggered out into three or four sessions to avoid traumatizing the skin too much.

He wondered if Gladiolus did the same, or if he sat through it all in one sitting.

"You like touching those.”

His fingers paused, and Ignis's cheeks twitched to tug his lips into a sheepish grin. "I suppose I could have been a little more subtle…"

In response, the hand that was resting in his lap rubbed at Ignis's outer thigh with the backs of his knuckles. Ignis noticed that the tips of a few fingers were discolored and mottled with scars.

"Lemme guess, you've never seen tattoos in person?"

He shook his head and laced their fingers together with the hand not still outlining the ink. "I have had quite a few coworkers that had tattoos, but none like yours."

Gladiolus hummed, letting his head rest atop Ignis's.

"I got this one done when I was visiting family in Capitolio.” He lifted his elbow a bit in gesture. "Hurt like a son of a bitch, but I don't trust artists in the States to get this stuff right without needing explicit directions."

So he got it done in one sitting? Goodness.

"Are you from Capi…"

"Capitolio. And no, I just have family there.”

“I was born in the bigger towns in Galahd but on a totally different island."

Ignis wasn't going to pretend like he knew much about Galahdian geography, so he looked up to peer at Gladiolus's face, only mildly surprised to see that Gladiolus had long since turned away from the television to gaze down at him.

“Why did your parents decide to move to Accordo?"

Gladiolus sighed and rubbed his thumb back and forth over the palm Ignis's hand, but didn’t respond right away.

"My mom died when I ten, so my dad took a job in Altissia and took us with him,” he finally answered, voice soft, “I guess it was to make it easier for us to move on – without all of the memories remindin’ us of mom – but it just made things harder on us.”

Ignis had no response to that.

A small, sad smile spread across his face, and Gladiolus pulled his hand away so he could wrap his arm around his back, pulling him into a one-armed hug.

"Sorry. That was heavy."

"No, no, I am glad that you are willing to share something like that with me.” Ignis twisted around so he was facing him, letting his hand rest over his stomach. "Do you visit your family often?"

"Not as often as I should.” Gladiolus frowned at the thought and lowered his gaze to the hand on his waist. "Just on holidays and birthdays. I don't get a lot of chances, with work and all.”

Ignis bit back a disappointed sigh.

By coming over, he had been hoping to liven the mood, not drag it down with depressing talk about dead parents and being over a thousand miles away from Gladiolus's closest family.

Ignis opened his mouth to apologize, but Gladiolus took a deep breath through his nose and slid his hand over his, squeezing tight. "What about your parents? Were they born in the States?"

This wasn't going to be any more of a pleasant topic, but something told him that Gladiolus just wanted the attention shifted off of him for a bit.

"My mother was born and raised in Tenebrae, but my father is from Insomnia.”

"Yeah? You speak the language at all?"

"I can get by in a conversation, but I am not fluent by any means. I struggle with anything deep, such as politics.” He shifted a little so he was leaning more into Gladiolus's chest, feet tucked under him, the strain on his back having become a little too much to deal with in his previous position. "Reading and writing is much easier."

Gladiolus's arm tightened around him, holding him close to his chest as Ignis let his head fall to his collar, "So I'm guessing you talk to them in English?"

"I don't particularly make a habit out of speaking with my family, in general,” he answered curtly.

He answered a little too thickly, unable to keep buried resentment from bubbling to the surface.

"Shit, I'm sorry,” Gladiolus murmured, curling his fingers around Ignis's, rubbing the back of his wrist with his thumb.

"It's fine, we just…" He felt Gladiolus turn his face downwards to press into his hair, the arm still looped around Ignis's back and arm squeezing briefly.

“You don't have to explain just because I told you about my mom,” he assured him, “Do things at your own pace."

Ignis released the breath he didn't even realize he had been holding and opened his eyes to gaze at their conjoined hands while the show played in the background. "My father and I simply have… very differing opinions on a number of issues,” he finally said, “I was expected to go through an arranged marriage to the son of the president of a Niflheim-based company he was partnering with, so… You can imagine how that turned out when my parents came home to find me making out with a man on their sofa."

"He was a homophobe?”

"I would not claim he was _homophobic_ , per se, he just had very… traditional views on marriage."

Gladiolus made a small disapproving noise in the back of his throat and stretched one leg out, shifting a little. That was more than enough for Ignis to know exactly how he felt about that statement, not that he could blame him; Ignis only half-believed his own lie when he told it to himself.

His father frequently toed the line between conservatism and bigotry on more than a few issues.

"So what happened?" His question was asked more than a little gruffly. Ignis wondered if he was angry.

"My father struck me once, then provided me with a suitcase in which to pack my belongings.”

Gladiolus swore under his breath, leaning his head back against the headboard before asking, "And your mom?"

Ignis slid his hand out to trace the two simple black band tattoos that circled his thick forearm. "Was a very loving, obedient housewife that understood her place."

Despite it being the twenty-first century, it seemed that his parents' marriage had been frozen in the pre- War patriarchal mindset.

Then again, it was no secret that Ignis’s father had married his mother for the political advantage it gave his company.

"Well, that explains why you never got to finish high school,” Gladiolus commented, “That's so fucked up."

“It was six years ago,” Ignis pointed out, hoping his tone was placating, “It happens all the time –"

"That doesn't…" Gladiolus took a long, deep breath, and released it slowly. "It just really pisses me off to hear about people treating their kids like that."

Guilt spread through Ignis's chest.

“I'm sorry, it was not my intention to –"

Gladiolus raised his hand to brush his bangs back, tucking them behind his ear, before cupping his cheek.

"Don't apologize."

"You wanted to hang out with me for a pleasant evening, not –"

"I wanted to see you, and spend time with you.”

"I'd rather get to know who you are than talk about work or superficial shit that doesn't matter."

Ignis opened his mouth to apologize again, then stopped and settled with leaning into the hand that still cradled his face. How was it possible for someone to be so warm and inviting?

All he wanted to do, honestly, was crawl into Gladiolus’s lap, curl into his chest, and soak up his body heat until his skin stopped feeling like it was trying to freeze over.

Ignis’s eyes slipped shut at the thought of those rough, callused palms smoothing over his skin while he fell asleep.

"Ignis…"

Gladiolus's voice was low, and gruff, and sent tingles up and down Ignis's spine.

"I want to kiss you."

Ignis froze.

"Is that okay?"

His brain short-circuited, and his heart came to a full stop for a half-second.

By the time Ignis fully processed what was just asked of him, his stomach felt like it was going to slide out his butt. He was suddenly acutely aware of just how close their faces were, how he was pressed up against Gladiolus's side, and his anxieties from earlier were rapidly returning.

There was a part of him that wanted to say yes, to be the one to lean in first, but he couldn't help but feel an onslaught of panic at just the idea of it.

What if it was bad?

What if he was like the men in those trashy romance novels that pushed for an intense make out session after the first kiss?

Would that mean that they were an official item?

Was he going to be stuck in something that was just as awful as before?

Oh, God, they were _alone_ – would anyone be able to hear him if –

_"Do things at your own pace."_

For the second time that evening, Gladiolus's words rang in his head.

Ignis didn't realize he was gripping Gladiolus's shirt until his fingers began to ache from the tension.

He whispered, "Please do not.”

Disappointment flashed in those endless amber eyes, but Gladiolus only rubbed Ignis's arm and looked back at whatever episode they were on, resting his cheek against the top of his head.

"Alright. Is this still okay?"

After a quick pause, Ignis decided that he was still fine with the way that they were, so he leaned his head back down to rest on Gladiolus's broad chest. His arm slid over his stomach to wrap around his waist.

"Thank you."

His head bounced when Gladiolus chuckled quietly, dropping his hand down from his face to rub rhythmic circles into Ignis's forearm. When his thumb brushed over one of the scars on his arm, Gladiolus glanced down to see what it was.

It was only for an instant, but Ignis felt every muscle in Gladiolus’s body tense up before he turned his attention back to the screen.

“I think I missed, like, the whole episode.”

Ignis’s eyes closed, and he took a shaky breath. Gladiolus resumed the gentle massaging of his arm.

“You don’t gotta tell me anything you don’t want to.”

“But you would like to know,” Ignis noted.

“’Course I do,” Gladiolus agreed, “But, right now, it’s none of my business.”

“Right now?”

“I mean… If we get a little more serious, I’m gonna need to know what went on,” he clarified, “Right now, though, when we’re just testing the waters, all I really gotta know is if you still do it.”

Ignis shook his head. “The last time I used was four months ago.” A beat. “My ex forced me to do… a lot of things I am not proud of, heroin being one of them.”

“Forced you?”

Ignis fidgeted.

“It was an exceptionally complicated situation.”

It was by the grace of the heavens that Gladiolus took the hint. The arm around his shoulder tightened in a brief hug.

 “I got no idea what’s going on, sooo… Can I put on cartoons?"

Ignis snorted and shrugged wordlessly.

This evening had been nothing short of an emotional rollercoaster on his end, and now he was too exhausted to bother with explaining the current plot of the long forgotten show.

It wasn't long before they were halfway through the new season of _Archer_ , laughing and making jokes with each other. Gladiolus definitely shared the same toilet humor that he was used to experiencing from Nyx, which didn't bother him as much as he thought it might, probably because he didn't take it as far as Nyx typically did.

With the pizza sitting warm in his stomach, and the much-too-large pullover sweater making the rest of him just as warm, Ignis decided that he would like to spend more evenings like this.

There was something relaxing about listening to the steady beat of Gladiolus's heart; even more so was the fact that his breathing was almost in time with the hand still drawing lazy circles into Ignis's arm.

In the back of his mind, he wondered when the last time was that he allowed himself to simply relax and have casual fun like this; he honestly couldn't remember.

Ignis turned his face towards Gladiolus's, which was still watching the screen with subtle amusement. In the back of his mind he wondered if the other man had his face set into a perpetual grin – even when nothing was happening it seemed like the corners of his lips were always turned upwards.

Not that he minded.

He liked his smile.

Reaching up, Ignis didn't give himself time to psyche himself out.

He pressed his lips against the edge of Gladiolus's jaw, savoring the way he tasted only just long enough for the other man to make a small surprised sound in the back of his throat.

Ignis quickly turned his head back down to bury it into Gladiolus's chest, snuggling down into the hoodie to hide his bashful grin.

He liked that, too.

 

* * *

 

Ignis didn't know when he fell asleep, but, the next thing he knew, he was lying on his back with a heavy arm draped over his waist. Gladiolus was wedged between him and the seat cushions, snoring away like a lawn mower left on idle.

Slowly, Ignis blinked one eye open. Light was filtering in through the closed blinds, washing the room in cool morning light. He closed his eye and snuggled into the sofa.

He was so comfy…

_Shit._

“Gladiolus!” he gasped, “Move – I have to go.”

“Mm? Wha..?”

Gladiolus propped himself up on one elbow, but he didn’t completely sit up.

 “We fell asleep. I have to get home _now_.”

“Oh, shit. Shit, yeah, no, totally. Shit, I’m sorry.”

As soon as Gladiolus had shifted his weight off of Ignis, he was scooting out from under him and taking the stairs two at a time for the bathroom.

Changing into his clothing was as unpleasant as one would imagine, as his t-shirt and jacket were still damp from the night before, but Ignis didn’t give himself time to balk at the sensation.

What the fuck kind of piece of trash father was he to fall asleep at his date’s house and forget about his son?!

Why didn’t Ezma call him?!

Dammit, _dammit_!

He fixed his hair on his way back down the stairs, where Gladiolus was standing with one of those reusable grocery bags.

“Here, take some of the leftovers.”

“What? No, you paid for them –“

“You had, like, two slices last night. I don’t feel right about letting you leave without some more. And I don’t even like pie.”

“Then why did you order pie if –?”

“Because I figured _you_ ’ _d_ like it.”

“You keep interrupting me.”

“Yeah, ‘cos you don’t have time to stand around arguing – wait, are your clothes _still_ wet? Babe, you could’ve just worn mine home.”

“No, I could not. They are yours.”

“What if you get sick?”

“I am not so fragile that I will come down with the flu from wearing damp clothing.”

“Maybe, but…” Gladiolus sighed. He rubbed a hand over his face, scratching his chin. “Alright. Just – take this? Please?”

Ignis eyed the bag.

No part of him was okay with taking food that was paid for with someone else’s money, especially not what looked like two whole pizzas and a pie that were separated into plastic containers, but Gladiolus was right, he didn’t have time to stand around protesting his generosity.

He slipped on his still-wet shoes before accepting the bag, eyes downcast.

“Thank you.” Gladiolus gave him a quick hug that was just as awkward as the rest of their conversation, and then Ignis stepped through the front door. “Drive safe.”

Ignis nodded, his eyes still glued to his feet. The bag of food was heavy in his hands.

He was so _stupid_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to make up some stuff (apparently Galahd has no specified cities, so I literally just looked up the Latin word for capitol lol) but ohhhh well.


End file.
